Nature bypassed Madison Square Park,
the Mont-Blanc monastery of every other nineteen-year-old's desire,
nestled in the head of an account exec on a business lunch,
checking out the spaghetti-strapped scenery for his next big thing,
yesterday's yearnings replaced with free-range desserts
the Bhagavad Gita hidden under the Wall Street Journal folded in his lap.

As the off-color nannies watched over the children of industry
and the humidity tried to evaporate, but evaporate...languidly,
I drank, tenderly burning a velveteen ear
as the orchestra got to work.

The strings swelled,
the curtains caught and blazed.
and as the sycamores melted into pitch,
I looked back at the fountains, the leaky tap
and soon saw Cain, candied, striped in fables,
red and hanging by his crooked neck.

And I saw you, hair on fire and grinning like a motherfucker.

This was a long time coming. I'll miss you (ya asshat).

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.