Passaic, 6538

It’s all leather jackets and messy buns
Under fluorescent lights outside of Delawanna
We know we perfected urban cool
Smacking lips to punctuate conversation like
My boss is a fucking asshole
Wrapping smoke rings around these phrases
And leaving remnants of a strong womanhood
On pink tapered cigarettes
We run this shit and will tell you about it
While commemorating the goddess within on
A 10pm commuter train from Jersey’s unwashed industries

Poem #4

Sometimes the best way to be touched is metaphysically.
Between us, I crave this mental discourse
The one where you tell me all about my past lives
And how you knew me in Paris back when
The Dadaists were throwing roses on
everybody’s heads.
Or the time in Italy when I was carrying
Buckets of water on my hips
Letting the source flow from side to side
Mimicking the rhythm of women
Drenched in the green smell of basil.
If you could let me touch you and if you
Could believe that I saw that this is the first time we’ve met.
That this pairing is as new as the lives we put on
The last time we stepped forward from death
Maybe you could understand that it’s not
The touch of our of skin but
The way in which our worlds intermingle
That bring passion and a newfound delight
To the worlds that we’ll create
To the endpoints that we will travel
Powered by light and love and my
Endless reminder to speak directly to my soul
So I can hear you better.

Poem #3

The past is surrounded by empty lots
All those broken places sitting in waiting
That we used as homes for all the pent up dreams
Yet to come
Certain avenues defined by the discrepancies
Between each building
Livid in the negative space where
The sky peeked through in stolen urban glimpses
I stomp my feet now
On the solid ground of cement and
Whatever these bars are made of
Putting my headphones on outside gym windows
To create a choreography so much better
Than the one these buildings fossilized
Beneath the stale air of undeveloped land
Ready to be excavated when the time comes
Or we give in and crumble into the echoes
Of what used to be (and smile)