Thursday, June 12, 2008

Night walk through Brooklyn

Fresh glisten of broken glass
marks one more stereo for the hood

Ice cream truck plays sweet
children's siren songs
past dark plus bass lines
as parentless youth
run for their fix

The droning crosswalk sign
blinks on the distance
Bringing into focus
my shadow looking back at me
Each detail to a T
hair flipped out Patty Duke style
staring back at me from the
gum stain splattered sidewalk

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