Where Brooklyn (they like night)

the boat dies
and I am allergic
to these streets;
I can't wait to not be here.

and birds mean nothing,
especially among these
green green skies.

girls got me
and I am just
a dead fish
or a drawing
of one
in a notebook.

don't come
in here, Sam.
I am just taking a picture,
but do you hear that?

it is something
from this here
stupid stoop,
where I tell the world that
it is stunning
like dehydrated girls
behind a register.

candy and nothing,
Bushwick and something,
the future is okay, I guess.