|
Moonlight through the chicken wire, humming windowpane,
|
Lukewarm water gasping down a rusty drain
|
Big town's in need of mending, street lights make tooth some seams
|
Denim shadows shuffle in between the beams.
|
|
Different strokes for different folks so
|
Mind your manner and easy on the ethnic jokes
|
It's a dumbbell curve, your trying to tally,
|
All the way down to shin bone alley
|
|
Streets are metacarpal and flesh of asphalt calm
|
Buildings rise like fingers from a concrete palm
|
Yellow lit apartment trickle through the drapes
|
Windows frame each history hidden even from the fire escapes
|
Sullen winter sparrow lends wing to expanse of grey
|
Six-thirty-two in the morning on Thanksgiving day
|
And the bums they hit their corners, the thunderbird rubs their bones
|
And the crack addicts stare at the snowflakes zigzagging down to greet jones
|
|
Different strokes for different folks so.....
|
|
Seven-thirty-two on the same day, your bare feet on the parquet
|
And the light so papery white shining past the microwave
|
Knuckles to eyeballs and elbows on the table
|
Spend the day gazing from the window gable....
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Shinebone Alley
|
| Spin Doctors |
