affection for his friends
of a certain time ilk
came forth at 29 years young.
it captured all the starving,
hysterical, naked, kipling
delicatessen philosophers
that paved the way
for me and my mates.
and here I am at almost 42,
having forgotten a lot of people
who have forgotten me,
a luddite of the lost generation,
the hipsters between Gen X
and the millennials.
way down in the golden brown
of the green grass
is where the good stuff lasts;
under the bestsellers
are the best artists.
as I hold up a sign
for the poetry of Kendra Jean
while walking through the Bowery,
hoping to still be scene.