clean brunettes, no bras.
groovy molars.
CitiBiked up and down Guernsey Street.
read Eileen Myles poetry.
in Transmitter Park.
smoked weed with Rob Dean.
L'Industrie lunch.
new hipsters hitting the streets.
while I am lost, literally and figuratively.
they're larping as cool kids.
this is the first they've heard of freedom.
Eric misses the G train.
Franco is full of zig-zags.
Angry at time.
So was I, not anymore.
Demyan/Van Remmen.
Yankees/Cubs.
Wimbledon at Kent Ale House.
Adam Santiago/Samantha.
Throw Nikes over powerlines.
Cut bracelets off my wrists.
Piss into the East River.
Sunset vinyl and half a million bodega flowers.
No more chemo port.
I am scared always.
But I never want to stop short of the stage.
Why BOOP when you can BOP?
Generational poems.
Tardy to the party.
Still have shame and envy.
Will always have NYC and poetry.