my favorite hour is at 3:07 a.m. your ramblers are spent. the streets are hot with discontent and happiness. your building walls are tired. there is hope and despair. the lights flicker off and off and sometimes on. dear Broadway i love you so. i want to drop dead on your asphalt and sink in forever. your silent strength feeding and nourishing all staggers of life. days are lived fast upon you. the letters, the pictures, the breaths, the gasps; cultivator of all that. your façade oozing with corporate swag, but your soul, your spirit profound, pure, wild and capricious, like a beautiful woman. i want to roll in your soot, trip on your cracks and see your ghosts who lived in you and of you, my beloved Broadway. speak easy of my dreams, mistress keeper of my veins in your dark little alleys. i love you so Broadway. i want you all to myself, no man, woman or creature can have you. you are my mother, when no one is willing to be. you are my father when all are too cowardly. you gave me karate movies, 8-tracks and joy. you gave me advice, caution and wisdom. you are my mistress, chancellor of my education and intuitions. you are my eyes into the past that lingers in my most penultimate remembrances as a child falling down by your fire hydrant. to you, who has always been the only one who understands my twistedness and carcinomatous fevers, i write to you fair goddess, keeper of myself. i love you so my beloved Broadway. thank you for keeping me in your implorations.