I skip across the busy street,
head of attic architecture
and the future mouth
of this.
all of this.
just a bartender with a dream;
just a poet and a bankrobber.
I am a man of my werd,
and that werd is
Unreliable.
and probably misspelled.
Only bad things happen in Brooklyn.
this is redemption
under a blanket.
vengence under the man-made sun.
trust.
I don't know what to call it.