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The tunnels on Elizabeth street

The tunnels on Elizabeth street.



Working for 20 hours straight, feet in pain, body bruised, hands cut up, shoes ruined

the rest of New York will never see the early blue morning

walking homes cause the cabs are not in service, buses are but not enough change

behind the deck of labor I crush trash as the rest of the east village tips me in pity, and yet put me in my place

this is adulthood, choosing labor to forget leisure weekends

its cold early in the morning when I walk through the tunnels where the homeless sleep on Elizabeth street

the cardboard forts that capture the loss of hope

cautious the tunnels are in the early blue mornings, in my ruined shoes I walk them.



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  1. Date: 10/18/2014 1:10:00 AM

    That is adulthood,starting to have responsabilities which We didn't have.Work instead of pleasure doesnt sound nice,but when its pay day rime,you'll have the money you didn't have as a child and maybe havoe some leisure time too.Life is a cycle.Your poem is vivid ,I could visualize the tunnels you walk and feel many feelings as If I was walking there..Excellent.

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