Howard Beach
weathered fences broken slacks
covered the shores of tan grit
that stained the walk way
of uncharted territories
i frolliced about tainted steel
the hidden smell of poshed hair tonic
as i reached for the door handle
quickly comforted by thought
mingling about stirring about
cold tire rims spinning spokes
i'd remember the jaded hours
focused on the infamous
coming of the dawn
shattering balance and lure
dangling about crowded burroughs
empty canals and rows
of rail road tracks
nestled underneath rusty viddocks
lined with vacant storefronts
filled with the stench
of molded cartons rotten produce
and spoiled fish morbidly covering
thee abandoned market place
Copyright © Yolanda Nicholsen | Year Posted 2013
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