From the Streets To the Hudson
A parade of folk
fixed on wedge-shaped skyscrapers
faces punctuated by grins wider
than the horizon
I see them across the avenue
musing upon tower tops, piercing
the cerulean dome,
turning heads and spooning smiles
this is a place where contrasts reflect
off asphalt ribbons, where pigeons pivot
while their wings shed silver-gray tumult
where straphangers squeeze into metal cars
at Eighty Sixth and Broadway
scents of mingled perfume and scorched brake pads
fill the subterranean stretch
here, where millions come as night spills over the Hudson
and the moon rests in roof top gardens
here, dreams are born in quiet depths
and this river lies ever at your feet
Copyright © Bob Vander | Year Posted 2013
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