After Portland with a Hat

I sleep all day.
I woke with this taste.

after Portland,
after Boiceville,
the cable company
is after sun.

then it wouldn't be
opulent Valentine's Day without Brooklyn.
William S. Burroughs is with me
on the 5 train.
he's talking to Joan of Arc.

I smile to myself
in the Rumbler
left to Willytowne,
where it is green
and pointy.

I am wearing a goddamn fucking
Lumineers shirt

Morgan meets Desmond;
one is an avenue.
memories are faces being touched in places.
Lunch at Greenpoint Heights.
Tacos and too many memories.

then the East Village.
a flower, and a door.
I haven't driven a van
since both Gentry's were alive.

and hours later,
from this hill,
I can see all the way to Yonkers,
and I was swallowing panic.

water runs away from my footprints.
watch life go.