A New One

A New One

Roamed the womby streets of

olde New Yorke

while o'erhead hesitates the rain

in this thirsty summertime.

The season brings remembered temperments,

and the streets accept their lot

like unmade salt beds in Holy deserts,

echoing their perfumes into the night

to follow us each home.

On some young small town tree there stands

a glyph I placed to sad teenage love

a long time ago

tho' now I know not where she lay,

tho' now I know not where she lay.

I wish I knew where all the splendid women lay

and of course I could not deign to be a

Father to them all --

they done become perplexed by

the halfway kid who seeks

blowjobs along the office floor.

So, instead of new love,

I buy myself an engine,

from a 57 Golden Hawk.

Let it roll under the hood!

Spare no air or grease to wind it up!

I'll charge up North to the highlands,

beyond the claim of this maimed territory,

where once shipyards flew and

old poets roamed the tankered wharf.

Oh earth,

soft and starved,

I'll give you back your touch,

and the many hands that've been forgot -

But I thought I'd seen a ghost tread these paths before,

and a stranger that looked like me a few years back.

He rounded the corner of Broome and Wooster

but I had no mind to call out and see.

I leave my questions with

the holders of heavy stones,

and the shakers of heavy hands.

I'll let the day steal herself out the door

like the shy way Slick Rick asked for more

cigarettes last night from passing hands

 in this mute and deadly dawning land.

~~~~~~~~~~

Listen to the author read the ‘'William Bonney’s Electric Book of Hours’' Audiobook on Audible, Spotify, Apple, and other platforms: https://www.audible.com/pd/William-Bonneys-Electric-Book-of-Hours-Audiobook/B08W2NVYD8