The 4th of July on 3rd St

This really has nothing to do with the 4th of July, it’s just a snap shot of the way I used to (but no longer) feel about New York.

Black v.2 – A Subway Poem
Originally Written around May 10, 2004
New York, NY

Black is the color you see
when you close your eyes.

Black is the top of
the hat of a man
who walks down
the street.
Black is the color
when you stare
down
at your feet.
Black is like a haze
when you miss too much
sleep.
Black is my jacket.
Black is my brain.
Black is the racket
blaring out the speaker
on the subway train.
Black is the tar
melting in the sun.
Black is the heat
rising from the ground.
Black is the color
of everything
all around.