Friday, November 04, 2005

Jackson Heights Scenes

The day looks gloomy outside
as if it is going to rain hard
and I keep thinking
about sunny and lazy days,

but something calls me
to the neighborhood

In the streets of Jackson Heights
there are scenaries that constantly change:
vendors pushing carts with ethnic food
others selling pirated cassettes and cd's
and phony clothing with false labels

The train above drowns the drama
it's high hell on pounding steel
there are no words to be heard
only the screeching sound of the rails

Gypsy cabs cruising for fares
gays walking from bar to bar
and into the unisex salons

Fruit stands with green platains
I thought I heard a rooster
in this congested place,
maybe from the yard behind the building
where drunks stench the alley with their vomit

Young Latina girls walking by
I look and wonder what it would be like
to have them in the crib
if only for a quickie

Latino boys wear their soccer shirts
ready to play in the fields of Flushing
by riding their mountain bikes
through the congested Roosevelt Avenue

Flower pots hanging by the window sills
Young dark skin prostitutes
in low light rooms with rotating doors
wait for anyone except the man in blue
Money flows into travel agencies
to send over to beloved ones
far away from this surreal place
I will be free if I slave away for some years

Loud salsa music blaring from a Toyota
It has tinted windows and chrome wheels
easy for the driving
ready to pick up girls in skirts