He Once Wrote
How quickly the vanishing
Where once shone the sun
Now only skyscraper shade
Horse drawn wagons
Once parked below tenement smiles
As rope baskets lowered with coins
Sent back with apples and grapes
Knife sharpening push carts
Their grinding wheels
Ever turning razor sharp edges
Making cheap meat cut special
Tilted fedoras tipped
By cashmere-draped gangsters
Greeted numbers-hungry tenants
While knickered children
Ran their errands for pennies
Warning shop owners
They needed protection
Then...
Came post-war-family-building
Turning wanton streets alive
Baby strollers passed
Job hungry veterans passing
No Help Wanted signs
In slumlord heaven
How precarious his street became
Teetering between shelter and commerce
Preservation and extinction
Wrecking ball and obstinacy
Finally...
Housing Department placed him elsewhere
Nice
He guessed
Missed the old stairs though
Squeaks
Creaks
Scrapes
Sounds and smells
His special friends
Now
Seems little comfort is left
Modern whoosh of elevators
Whirls of air conditioning
Frequent ambulance sirens
Stopping below
Providing the lucky ones
With their last ride
Boredom no more
He once wrote
when it comes down to it
round to it
flouncy-knickered
frown to it
no mo
feels real
good
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
yepperooni
Macho muscle moving in time
To the rhythm and roll of the drums
Big chests and thighs
Come to bed eyes
And tempting tanned little bums.
Loving themselves, loving the looks
of lust from their wet-knickered fans
They stride on the stage
The hormones rage
Greek gods with their muscles and tans.
'I bet they're arrogant bastards' she says
'The type that would love you and leave,
Give me a New Man any day'
As she sighs and her breasts start to heave.
We all want a man who will share in the work
Who will clean out the loo and make tea.
But give her the chance to share more than a dance
With a Chuppendale or three.