Thoughts.
You sit there with a smile
Not really looking, just thinking.
Impressions of a Greenwich writer or an
Alcoholic Dylan Thomas.
A cold wind stumbles up 5lst and Lexington as
Dominant middle American ladies are stuck in elevators with the Boston Strangler
Who’s on vacation in Central park.
As the crumpled image is sent headlong into a wicker basket
A siren wails over the skyline from Brooklyn.
Wanting the sea and the open shore
Wanting a drink
Wanting to talk through the night and
Communicate just for once.
Look up at the ceiling.