Poetic Bends

An Ode to Manhattan

We were walking together

Back on 23rd street

And I heard a man say

“I’m glad that he’s dead”

And I thought to myself

What an unfortunate sentiment

From a man who brags about death

And doesn’t even flinch

But speaks in one single breathe

We are alone together

Like the song says

Sitting, not speaking

With our laptops as friends

Watching and listening

To the voices on screen

Who spoke what we thought

But never even said

What was written on the page

From beginning to end

We played many games

Ones of cards and cups

Of Humanity and Kings

So we tore up the world

Like we tore up those pages

And tossed them to the floor

Spilling around us

In a rainbow of faces

You told me a story

Of your late night out

Near the shack with the shakes

And the weather worn benches

A tale of corpses and rat men

Of laughs and still beating hearts

I pictured the worst

As you smiled your best

I dreamed of a day

When we could all be great

But the hardest part is

Simply having to wait

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2 thoughts on “An Ode to Manhattan

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