He knew the around of the block. His city

in a square. He recognizes sidewalk cracks,

stains from blood and stores still offering

candy for a dime. He claims the lights on his

corner turn green with his snap, even beggars

know him by name when shipments are in town.


Some friends are memories while

resting in broken dreams or on forearms

with names and dates faded by the sun.


The lullaby of Broadway means nothing over here

where rattling contempt soaks up lives in the

square of the block, keeping hold of backstreet

shadows and broken neon signs.


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