Tweet
January 1986
Downtown in the rain during January
5:36 p.m.
traded cigarettes for directions
to Grand Central Market
Walked
Walked
Walked
Had to ask for directions again -
Broadway not Olive (he needed the smokes more than I)
the smell of samsara (time process) seaped
from the soggy streets
Traffic
close call passing situations
Hustling
"Hey man, you want to buy some dope?"
Corruption
People starving beneath the skyline
All maya (illusion)
Death
A city of decay
Rain soaking the brim of my cap
engulfed by the sound of the fresh oil asphalt
churned like butter within the treads of
hydroplaning tires
A river of pollution - sludge!
Promenaded through a silent Pershing Square
East of 6th on Broadway
Its a ghost town
Lost soulds roaming
Grand Central Market, finally
Cerrado. (that's what the man at the passage said)
I figured it was closed.
Ate a sleazy steak burrito outside
the Clark Hotel
Just me standing in the shadows of an era
Gone by
Smoke my last smoke
An hour has passed
cold and gray
No different from any other day (even when the sun shines)
Stagnant kinesis.
Sidewalks become beds when downtown sleeps
the people beneath the soiled bedcovers
live without convenience
the faces with no names have a hard time
looking each other straight, dead in the eye
the street people detached from materiality
too busy, struggling to survive
A peddler with new, squeaky shoes is
the bully of the litter - cashing in on ignorance
Somewhere in this troubled gridiron
someone will sleep with dirty, wet feet.
Downtown in the rain during January
5:36 p.m.
traded cigarettes for directions
to Grand Central Market
Walked
Walked
Walked
Had to ask for directions again -
Broadway not Olive (he needed the smokes more than I)
the smell of samsara (time process) seaped
from the soggy streets
Traffic
close call passing situations
Hustling
"Hey man, you want to buy some dope?"
Corruption
People starving beneath the skyline
All maya (illusion)
Death
A city of decay
Rain soaking the brim of my cap
engulfed by the sound of the fresh oil asphalt
churned like butter within the treads of
hydroplaning tires
A river of pollution - sludge!
Promenaded through a silent Pershing Square
East of 6th on Broadway
Its a ghost town
Lost soulds roaming
Grand Central Market, finally
Cerrado. (that's what the man at the passage said)
I figured it was closed.
Ate a sleazy steak burrito outside
the Clark Hotel
Just me standing in the shadows of an era
Gone by
Smoke my last smoke
An hour has passed
cold and gray
No different from any other day (even when the sun shines)
Stagnant kinesis.
Sidewalks become beds when downtown sleeps
the people beneath the soiled bedcovers
live without convenience
the faces with no names have a hard time
looking each other straight, dead in the eye
the street people detached from materiality
too busy, struggling to survive
A peddler with new, squeaky shoes is
the bully of the litter - cashing in on ignorance
Somewhere in this troubled gridiron
someone will sleep with dirty, wet feet.