poem (Evenings in Williamsburg)

Evenings in Williamsburgh


oh Beautiful plush grief.

Why are there stories In the closet? 
Why up Bedford Street is a flag 
flapping? Solidly middle class?
The bananas are named Bonita

They are a Product of Ecuador.

And there stands Raymond 

Chandler who is lurking 

among the lights. Balzac however is not

there, but the 97th Precinct is arriving.


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