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.