May 27, 2011

O, city noises and window lights,
put me to sleep. The summer wind
will carry your messages into my
tiny bedroom, through my cracked
open portal to the outside; through
my own city window. Maybe city
stories will be in the wind, and I’ll
have pretty dreams of dirty nights
in Manhattan, and Bushwick, and
upstate, where Ivy League frat boys
throw parties in vacant summer homes
their dads’ own. New York has all these
stories to tell me, to make me dream
with. Maybe one day, I’ll go out and
live them. Live them, and love them.

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