Morningside Drive, Manhattan

I usually carry some change
in my pockets for the meter
or to give to a street peddler

There's no need to jump
the subway turnstile
or to light up a cigarette
with the 3rd rail
or to heat up canned food
with the hotwater pipes
or to open the can with
a rusted knife and eat right
off it

I don't walk with a halo
nor do I light candles
for a wing and a prayer
I lack the fervor of a dying man
though I cherish life and those
who work to save it

I left feral love bleeding in a
park bench at Morningside Drive
It called me back for a second chance,
and it's sinful allure almost enticed me

There are pigeons and squirrels
feeding off bread crumbs
left by a faceless old woman,
who struggles as much to cross
Amsterdam Avenue and facing
her predictable demise and future

I am closer to death everyday
and further away from birth
There will be a time that I will
no longer walk or crawl
and I will be telling you this
not from the dying bed
from inside your head

Reo Del Cigarrillo
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