Brooklyn Narcissus

Straight rye whiskey, 100 proof you need a better friend? Yes.        Myself. The lights the lights the lonely        lovely      fucking       lights and the bridge on a rainy Tuesday night Blue/green double-stars      the line that is the drive and on the dark alive gleaming river Xmas trees of tugs scream and struggle Midnite Drops on the train window wobble  .  stream My trouble is it is her fate to never learn to make anything grow be born or stay Harbor beginnings and that other gleam  .  The train is full of long/way/home and holding lovers whose flesh I would exchange for mine The rain, R.F., sweeps the river as the bridges sweep Nemesis is thumping down the line But I have premises to keep & local stops before I sleep & local stops before I sleep The cree- ping train joggles rocks across I hear the waves below lap against the piles, a pier from which ships go to Mexico a sign which reads PACE O MIO DIO oil “The flowers died when you went away” Manhattan Bridge a bridge between we state, one life and the next, we state is better so is no backwater, flows between us is our span our bridge our naked eyes open here see bridging whatever impossibility. . . PACE! PACE O MIO DIO oil “The flowers died. . .” Of course they did Not that I was a green thing in the house I was once. No matter. The clatter of cars over the span, the track the spur the rusty dead/pan ends of space of grease We enter the tunnel. The dirty window gives me back my face