hi everyone–

the following piece is in response to–or an interpretation of–Martin Wong’s Stanton near Forsyth Street (1983); read about the painting here

clattering chugs the train hums
over the manhattan bridge 
with its cables tangled in the big dipper

my star sign hangs low in the bitter cold

another face after another day
another sea of warm beige
hugged in black that wraps
from ear to ear and to the moon

i shift weight under the gravel
that broke into dust 
marrying the brick crumble
when tenants shoveled snow
otherwise turned to muddy slush
i now have to tip toe
around in these loafers not made for walking
but it's 20:23 and the bus is late
the meatloaf probably done cooling
down and i'm still downtown
squinting at the sea of beige

-l.a.

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