November 30, 2001
Cars pass byhouses in the distance,
As grabage trucks rumble up metropolitain
To distant distbutions centers on the north side,
Newsboys with master keys deliver early editions, While drunks disperse from post last call revelries, In Williamsburg day breaks slowly.
Fell down, and crwaled towoard home, Reached up and tried To find another hand, Broken down and cold Sleeping in front – inside out,
One hand, my hand.
Why does he break it down? It was the last of the dreams Just the words alone And the hollow sounds In the shell of my mind, An abstraction that leaves me here.
As grabage trucks rumble up metropolitain
To distant distbutions centers on the north side,
Newsboys with master keys deliver early editions, While drunks disperse from post last call revelries, In Williamsburg day breaks slowly.
Fell down, and crwaled towoard home, Reached up and tried To find another hand, Broken down and cold Sleeping in front – inside out,
One hand, my hand.
Why does he break it down? It was the last of the dreams Just the words alone And the hollow sounds In the shell of my mind, An abstraction that leaves me here.
