At the downtown café
One idyllic August day
I thought why you didn’t care
To check up the pod, to stay
As you were, alive and kicking
But instead you proved your right
To admit you weren’t picking
The forget-me-nots that night
It was 6th of March last year
Just 6 days after St.David’s
Happy March, you said, Oh dear
Donald took In Welsh that service
Donald passed away in Jan
Of the twenty-twenty three
And you lived alone since then
For two years you were free
Now I sit among the pansies
With my Bourguignon and beer
Wond’ring what would be your fancies
If you’d suddenly appear..
peaches glow in morning light,
vendors call beneath the trees.
bright tomatoes, summer-ripe~
the street hums with gentle breeze.
I knew a man from downtown Bell South
who could stick his own d-ck in his mouth.
That put him in the same bucket
as that famed man from Nantucket,
though he swore he never did suck it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neon vines entwine~
steel branches scrape the smog sky.
A taxi's harsh bloom
paints the pavement yellow, then
fades like a dying firefly.
colorful downtown
garden club chose trees' color....
red light had me look
He never had the chance
to be a child, but here he
was sitting at a table
watching a wave of humanity
pass him by.
Strangers with children
pointed at him
and told them to stay away.
What did I do wrong, he asked
but when he got up and the table
tipped on its side, patrons screamed
running out the door.
When the manager banned him,
something inside told him
he was not of this world
and all he wanted was to be
a part of them—
his anguished voice was a plea.
When he saw a mother
with a baby clenched to her
a feeling he didn’t understand
stirred in his chest
while he recalled the sting
of a metal table in the lab
where he was born.
I see us someday slow dancing in a renowned dance hall
In a bustling downtown under a full moon that will crawl,
Ascending just like a love in which I will never again bawl.
A soft wind whispers
early September.
The year is passing
and you are closed
for good.
You were more
than brick and mortar—
You had a heart.
Now you rest in shadows
in the downtown.
You still bear the voices
of those who came in
for a burger or a drink
also playing video games
or sports.
I still hold in my heart
how you cared for
the servers working
their way through college.
They were the dearest friends.
But mostly I remember
the Friday nights when
I stood on the dining porch
and you urged me to sing.
I still hear the applause.
I still hold dear the night
when I painted a waterfall
while nursing a drink
in your loft.
O how a blank canvas came to life.
Each morning the sun shines
but your lights are off.
Sparrows dance in the sidewalk
and chatter by the front steps.
But as I drive and take a look
I sing my song for you.
No channel skipping ..no flannel...it was so gripping…hearts melt…Pant's ripping svelte pelt and belt..stripping and whipping..the fab never drab Rishab lab..was it real..felt like I was tripping… no pipping..surreal cartwheel flipping..
Some verse about the Panto Pant curse…does traverse…like a hearse….won’t reimburse..adverse bowlers terse..things getting worse…reputations nurse…Rishab flash panache smash and grab..rehearse that ramp reverse..in his own homegrown perverse.. with only himself will converse..no fretting..go getting…record setting universe..
Now has outshone and outdone..shoves show pony Dhoni.. as the Indian man alright talisman with the gloves everybody loves with the most tons..holy moly..more three figures scores on England tours than the folklore of before..Sunny and Kohli..
Records splattered shattered..gallivanting Pant parade..cascade and cavalcade …flattered .. Rishab paddled..bowlers addled and raddled..skedaddled
Ignore any naysayer…prime sublime Pantomimes…haymaker…cocktail shaker…p**s taker…tik tok peacocker..run for fun maker…cool cat with the bat..almost indecent crimes..the Indian’s best test player and slayer of recent times..
• He should've been back by now
• "Where did he go?" you ask
• "Downtown in the straw market," I replied
• "He tends to carry a flask"
music lingers
streetlights
shine stars
man and woman
sleeping in shadows
the library’s closed
an intimate voice
on the radio
as I drive home
midnight
the spell is cast
midnight
as I drive home
on the radio
an intimate voice
the library’s closed
sleeping in shadows
man and woman
shine stars
streetlights
music lingers
Best way to hear the local news and meet new people
The escalator keeps descending;
Seemingly, it’s never-ending,
Taking riders deep into
The bowels of the earth.
Everyone around pretending
That they’re fine, of course, depending
On their circumstances and
Just what their time is worth.
When the platform’s reached, there’s waiting.
Scrolling signs are indicating
When the closest train will come –
That is, if you’re in luck.
Minutes tick by, generating
Lots more people congregating
But you’ve made your choice and now
It seems that you are stuck.
Finally, a revelation –
See the train approach the station.
As the doors glide open, people
Rush to get inside.
Find a seat or resignation
Will stay ‘til your destination.
Then at last you exit,
Having taken it in stride.
The noise and the grime
the mushrooming crime
junkies and beggars abound
Strange folks in your face
steal your car, spray some mace
Who wants to vacation downtown ...
This year I'll cede culture
to the buzzard and vulture
as in soft meadows I lie
As I walk the city streets
and listen to the city beats
my heart keeps time with every sound
as precious memories abound
I think of where I’ve walked before
and those with whom I would explore
of restaurants and laughter’s fill
deciding who would pay the bill
Aroma of fresh pop-corned air
competes with fragrance everywhere
hypnotic billboards, signs aglow
distract as all the car horns blow
And as I walk the city streets
and clock my brain as it repeats
I’ll not forget the days and nights
of many fascinating sights
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