lunes, 8 de octubre de 2012

A Governor's Island Lullaby

… rotten bananas and white bleach bath tubes
memories of old girlfriends and sting like headaches
some rain in the morning and
a bright night somewhere quiet...

your face is still there

in the mirror hall
like the faded colors of the squashes over the grey urban cement

berrie pie; blue painted nails, small chinese smiles when you turn

the corner,
… drugged, lost, fragile bodies
moving over broadway like they were carried by
a dusty wind,
all those yellow cabs like knives passing around them
leaving the smell of
hallucinated mouths behind windowpanes
and used up shirts
and unborn sorrows

the sounds of the subway beneath the feet

like the remote turmoil of an assassinated love affair
the heat wave coming from below-
it won’t die-
like the burning breath of some sad beast

it’s nice outside,

no sun
rainboots and hideaways
for your mistakes
your drugs
your lovers
your fears

sweets like

skinny black girls with yellow high heels
mud and gasoline
confusion and fire
sparks and a rainy summer day

iron works to keep it all together

words to one self
a building that should have come down a hundred years ago
still standing
still trembling