madly backwards

sirens sing
junkies to sleep
on the stairway
of the sunset hotel

old hopes fade
& dance away
madly backwards

rain reclaims
worn tire tracks
of piss-yellow cabs
pointed cross town

by gypsy hacks—
insomniacs from new york,
new jersey, new delhi
chasing american dreams

down empty streets—
red, white & blue illusions
slipping into the darkness
of rearview mirrors

lost in the shadows
of sacred skyscrapers
that sigh & bend
in the wind

old myths fade
& dance away
madly backwards
_______________________________________________________

searching for the door

night steps on stage
without fanfare—
an overlaid, underpaid lady
lingers at the intersection
of 12th street & absolute zero

distant—
like nobody can touch her
a high-stepper
with voodoo hips
perfume rising like a prayer
from her once retail body
lately relegated
to working the wholesale
side of the street—

hard-time hustler
with a face
like a city map folded
too many times—
sad eyes filled
with junk-sick rivers
she faces another night
made of waiting—

swaying in place
staring back
over her shoulder
as if she’s searching
for the door
she came in through
_________________________________________________________

midnight falls on the cool

mind-enhanced masses
in barroom communion
raise empty glasses
in half-assed salute
to karaoke jesus
with his new
crown-of-thorns
tattoo
singing the crucifixion
blues
over the simulated
pinfall of emulated
bowling alleys
while a reality show
rolls on a muted TV
56-inch
modern art masterpiece
hanging from
a faux-brick wall—
midnight falls
on the cool
me watching you
waiting
small hands
shaking
by a silver cellphone
praying
your connection
will call back soon