Skyscrapers

"Here,
right here,
in the heart of it all,
where skyscrapers stumble over one another,
and everywhere you go is somewhere they don't want you to be.

There are spots though;
there's the library on 2nd,
the scaffolding down on Orchard,
and the Starbucks on Broadway (when the fat manager's not around)."


On the curbside;
gutterpunk junky closes crusty eyes to
subcutaneous sensations,
tangible hallucinations;
he's nodding out on his street-stained pack.

Devil sits beside
slinging witticisms through sacred smoke,
bumming sly smiles,
and whistling a wistful tune.

His partner's poised,
head hung just above the knees
equilibrium still swirling in those strung-out synapses

"Um... is he... dead?"
Asks the blue-tied passerby.
"Oh no, not dead."
Devil's got a gritty grin beneath his emerald eyes
"Uh, are you two gonna be ok tonight?"

"Man,
we been running these streets so long the stains are in our fingertips,
soles of boots worn down to the ankles,
and everywhere you go,
is somewhere we've already been.

We loiter liquored alleys
and smash brain patterns on rain-splattered streets.

Here,
right here,
in the heart of it all,
where skyscrapers stumble over one another."