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It is listening to the Bill Evans trio play Gloria’s Step for the first time….And then every time after….. it’s just as fresh…..

Watching kids laugh in Central Park…Held by grandparents…placed on shoulders….

Walking past panhandlers and donating a buck or two…..a chat with a bag lady…..PLEASE HELP A VET……maybe he’s lying..what’s the difference…throw a bill….

It is listening to John Coltrane play Central Park West for the first time….And then every time after….it’s just as fresh…..

Halal lamb over rice for $5……a great yogurt sauce…..a slice of grilled pita…..and a can of soda while standing on a hosed down sidewalk…..some smells never leave….

A movie at The Mid-Town library on a Sunday afternoon…a Friday night at MoMA….the number 4 at 2nd Avenue Deli…..a cool waitress at The White Horse Tavern….talkin’ to a retired fireman who just lit a candle for his wife…..

It is listening to Miles Davis play So What…….Yes…..It is listening to Miles Davis play…… So What…….

 

 

Surrounded by crazies….. cons……criminals….Looking for angles…..same road…different routes….who will get there first?…..

RAP sheet says this….RAP sheet says that….converting prison life to the shelters….the drop-in centers…soup kitchens….get in line…wait your turn….don’t ask me again….

The pecking order is long…. power struggles…..prosthetic intelligence….mouths a-poppin’ all night long….Academia need not apply….

Not Beckett…..nor Joyce…or Bach…loud…bombastically blaring BET rings off walls….stacking metal folding chairs….slept-on in seven different positions…..a blinking eye never closes….

It’s the system man…..the system…..Yeah I shot that motherfucker….and I robbed a liquor store…and I beat that hoe you knows…but see I’m the victim here….Aint nobody done broken these chains….My chains aint been broken…..

Get a-hold of The Jaws of Life…….break ’em yourself…..

So cold and miserable outside….indoors….no better…

Across the room she sits in-waiting….

For what?…..

If only i knew…..

Central Park West was danced to……playfulness…..pecks on cheeks….To those that have never loved…..perhaps you are blessed…..

No more music…..dancing is done…..not a single kiss…not a taste in years…..

She takes walks alone……why?…..

If only i knew….

A split…..a disconnect….nothing in common any longer…..cable news….People Magazine…rolled-over….back to back…..a chasm never to be filled……

This isn’t fun anymore…….What do we do now?……She said……

If only i knew…..

Don’t rely on your parents….nor the next generation to pull you through these times…….Don’t rely on churches….food pantries…..public bathrooms….dollar menus…..latex rubbers….. kitchens of distinction…..

Don’t rely on ex-wives……ex-lovers…..ex-in-laws…..Exxon……Don’t rely on subway trains to get you from point a to point b…..taxi cabs to take the quickest route….Uber apps……Google maps……Backpage ads that promise this and deliver that……teenage boys standing dangerously too close….. guys name Sal with a real estate deal just for you…..

Don’t rely on friends…former friends…..future friends….any friends…….not even friendly types….Don’t rely on America……America’s enemies…..America’s allies….insurance companies…..public assistance….or the publicly condemned public that condemned the condemned……Don’t rely on salt substitutes….

And…..do not rely on me………………..

Whitman’s Manhatta…..gone….gone….gone…

Langston’s Harlem is now a playground….A renaissance? a rebirth?  of what? gone…gone….gone….

Patti Smith’s Manhatta….Jim Carroll’s Manhatta….Happenings….. St. Mark’s……gone….gone….gone…

The Beats….Ginsberg’s howling….Kerouac’s dreams of Buddha and Bennies in Washington Square while rattling off Haiku’s as girls stroll by……gone…gone….gone

Seventy-five dollar a week rooms with dead rat essence in Chelsea…..gone…gone…gone….

Porn in Times Square….Buddy booths…..hour hotels……dirt….grime….Here’s to crime……Manhatta is gone….gone….gone……

And……so am I.

 

A candle was lit at St. Xavier’s… she was dying…why not? sleep…..slumber…. never wake-up….wrapped in the arms of Jesus…..the only long-haired she ever loved….

Nothing is felt……no suffering…..no crying…..no remorse….nor guilt….. years wasted…done and finished like cornbread in a cast-iron-skillet caked in bacon-drippings…..she could cook…..

A Southern tale as twisted as a Faulkner novel…..family favorites…..sexual taboos…….Always coveting and coveting and coveting……wishing for more and more and more……a constant filled plate…..  sins cast long ago…..

Always hiding……immoral acts behind wood panel doors…….fried pies in dresser drawers……dollars stowed away in jewelry boxes……a life of hide and go seek……And nothing was ever found…..

Nothing is felt…..no suffering…..no crying…..no remorse…..nor guilt….years wasted……done and finished like cornbread in a cast-iron-skillet caked in bacon drippings…..she could cook……

 

Morning and Madison Square Park is at peace…..

Air is new….without fault….giving life to quick stepped dogs…..a couple caught kissing…paper readers…garbage pickers…and a green at rest…..

Morning and Madison Square Park is at peace…..

Comforting…refreshing…while smells of soured booze….misplaced dreams….crack bruised lips lie in City shelters….drop-in centers…..and 10 by 10 rooms…..

Morning and Madison Square Park is at peace……

Junkies and juvenile delinquents….whored-out hustlers from The Port Authority potluck, Put on these panties…..Do your stuff and don’t get cute, John’s hushed request…..a $20 marks the spot…..

Morning and Madison Square Park is at peace……..

Brunches across town…..Eastside…….Westside……farm to table…..organically fed….fuck me….fuck you……she wants her ring back…..What’d I…..what’d I….what’d I do to deserve this?…….

Morning and Madison Square Park is at peace……..

And Chester Arthur looks down on all………………

Shylock’s wife looked good….. Course she did…..she’s Shylock’s wife….Blonde Shiksa in a tight dress showin’ it off…Walking among tourists…..Bryant Park shoppers….concrete lions….Midwest protestants….and Halal…..Halal….Halal….

No hands held..just shopping bags in both fists with fingers wrapped in cheesy gold…Bones made long ago…Now she was digging her’s…..

Pilates….strength training…..detox this….add to the rear….take away from the tits….and puff those lips…..a new model…..Jackie Onasis got nothin’ on you…..

Shylock’s wife looked good…… Course she did……she’s Shylock’s wife…..

Girls with black-eyes walk-by waiting for a coded door…opening for relief…. a wash….for whatever….work with me here…..time is short….

Just like a prayer….Madonna becomes McDonald’s Muzak…… hoodies rest on table-tops….. half-filled coffee cups, Sir….Sir….you cannot rest here…You have to leave, a loud Latin tongue tells, Those are the rules sir…..THOSE ARE THE RULES, she didn’t make them…….

Watching with empty pockets…..not an empty soul……all is witnessed….recorded daily…. clothes clean…..hair trimmed…..eyes clear….breath fresh…..no-one knows…..

A white guy showered in humility….crying at the drop of a bill doled out……For whom?…..The constant questioning, Sir….Do you have……Could you help….I just need…..

Yes….yes…..yes…..I get it……

Early idealism begins to fade….fraud is a way of life……You cannot live by the rules….JP Morgan would tell you that…..

And a shakedown is a shakedown…a hustle..is a hustle…..Why wait in-line…..What will it cost?……

Nothing……nothing….nothing…..Just hide and keep your mouth shut….

Roger that……

 

tonight the 6 train will be rode from Brooklyn to Bronx…..never getting off….an occasional nap in between poems by Dugan and dreams of Allen, Jack, and Bill…..

tonight vagabonds will ask for alms as they tread through silver cars….May I have your attention?…..May I have your attention?….some will give while others think of late night carousing and breakfast meetings and mom’s homemade pies and what ever happened to Jennifer?…..and on and on and on and on……

tonight music will be heard whether you want it or not…loud……louder….and kids in bags and swags rapping some torment that happened last week on Hunts Point….or Washington Heights…..or Stanton Island….or even Cleveland……while shots are shot and K2 drifts in and out of Union Square……Who wants to take a walk in the park at midnight? …….This is serious……You can’t even get back home…….Joe warned us…….

tonight cops will look for the sleeping…. hungry…… long…long….long gone and remind them just how they got where there at…..please officer……remind me……