tamarind paste, lox and cream cheese, yellow curry, orange rinds in the street

sneaky people, homeless chess pieces and disembodied steering wheels

a man in a bathrobe selling saucepans full of taco meat

giant chia seed juice cleanses, mega christian brain wave clinics

uptown ladies paying someone to snake their drains

a little polish restaurant that literally never closes until it looks open

because someone else bought it and it sucks

the parks where everyone that has ever been will ever be

stop and frisk, stop and  drop, you will never forget your first time

if you see something say something but fuck the police

candy bar bodega queens, ice cream shelters and mini me waffle trucks

totally respectable crackheads you know and love

graffiti people making waves in all the new ways,

the revolution will not be televised, only live-streamed

snapple, pepsi, sins against god, mac n cheese

and mountain do you know what that even means

that bombs away, bottoms up, lamb and goat shanks

the son of god, the messiah, here he is, pooping in the street

we’re kissing our dogs on the mouth, we’re sitting with dogs on the stoop

outside but  inside the heat of the summer, inside the pizzeria

we’re bleeding onto ourselves, we’re bleeding out our feelings

we’re feeding into this meat market

of expensive real estate featuring underage tricks and treats

grocery store box packers, meat movers, fruit shakers

baby bread hellraisers, bagel blazing tastemakers

french fries that cost you five dollars

and a hot dog that’ll cost you a hug

gum wrapper train lines, watch-a-mouse-kill-a-mouse kind of guys

long live rat king, tied at the tails with nothing to tell

but the truth of the underground sewer people

taste your own name in spray paint on a wall

wall on a building, roof on a building, and nothing above

church for the church, bar for the bar

tree branches scream across all pieces

of the highly pierced platonic sky

winos sleeping on the street, dreaming of the prettiest minerals

fountains as pools and bathtubs, hydrants as high chairs

park benches as court and here is the jury:

humans rival pigeons, babies rival dogs, toddlers rival street performers

street gangs rival street gangs, shuffle board matches defeated and depleting

by hyperpink and shiny barbie limos

neon handstands mask the dirty gymnastic undertones

of hardware stores and laundromats

beautiful braids on the heads of everyone,

let ‘em run nuh-nun nuh-nun nuh-nun alongside the A the C the E

because the doors are now closing

please watch your step, the next stop will be

waves of broccoli trees, celery streets

dance battle beatbox beatings in cemeteries

black and white basketball photography

biker gangs and papaya dogs

street awnings as insurance against leaky garbage air conditioning systems

cellphone minute stands, two-dollar necklaces, and industrial mixers for sale

domino-slinging elderly homies chatting it up with maybe a celebrity’s baby

cold beer condensating on the sweaty necks and heads of everyone

secret rivers and subway systems

laundromat perfect for washing dingy armpit dreams

sandwich artists and scholarly titshows

time square’s tastiest guys and ladies

showing a chorus line of cheesecake-snorting yankees

caveman beer barns full of propaganda specialists

applesauce and sriracha and salsa

let ‘em run nuh-nun nuh-nun nuh-nun down the sewer drains

 along Avenue A Avenue B Avenue C

arsonist junkies and junk funky cabaret specialists

reaching new dishes for high school hellraisers

dinosaur sausage punks and rich psychos

physically impossible playground equipment

holding drunk hookers slurping slushies

buildings unzipping, writers slinging clove cigs

packed sprinkler fracking

pom-pommed plaid jumpers

lip-ringed belly dancers

pot in the salt shakers

money making itself

redundant, undulating, philosophers

ticking-clock crosswalks

pigeon-feeding thought-watchers

and with all these lovely fucking things

I am no longer there

they were never for me

but, to them all

I send more hugs

than can be imagined

it’s the party at which

I’ll always wish I was