so what’s wrong with a little celebration?
flower stems queuing
seeking their blossoms at nightclub doors
cops on Harleys, fire engine orchestration
pawnshops dancing to the music
of once well-loved glockenspiels
as the gutter bleeds into Saturday night and
the bar fights roll out onto Rain Street
where the moon won’t shine
and a benediction for the City
is a belt of rye, hallelujah someone screams
like murder as the manhole steam
floods the sidewalk like
Chinese New Year


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