Madison Square Penn Station
Life is a beehive.
All roads lead to Manhattan.
Nightclubs. Dayclubs.
Wild orgies.
You, me – flying high.
Life behind you, life before you:
Wanna play?
Long fingers caress your dignity.
Real – or artificial like everything else?
Is she a she or a he?
Ladies and Gentlemen,
We have landed safely on Pleasure Planet.
Unfasten your seat belts.
No cause for control.
Everything is under alarm.
The tremor begins.
“You take yourself too seriously,”
she whines and wines until the wine
knocks you out.
Home is where Kerry accepts defeat
In the Bush of a thousand demons:
Rigging is a universal language.
You turn into bed
Even as Fallujah explodes with Phantom Fury
& Sudan rages Breaking lives Breaking dreams
like CNN’s Breaking News
& Palestine boils with 3600 Celsius of Israelian rage
& Nigerians strike against fuel price hike – feebly
like a drugged scorpion
& Arafat departs – without pomp and gunfire
mere stain wiped with a swab of Milton
Madison Square Penn Station
Life is a beehive
All roads lead to Manhattan.
Nightclubs. Dayclubs.
Wild orgies.
You, me – flying high.
Life behind you, life before you:
Wanna play?
Thank God I’m a New Yorker.
Open: the door to life – 2-4-7.
Only New Yorkers may go through.
But New York is a strange disease:
More things to possess
Less life to live.
Same earth, different seasons.
Same journey, different routes.
From my forthcoming collection: Four Serenades: Water, Earth,
Wind and Fire.
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