Bleecker Bar

It's a night in February

and words become arbitary.

Instead a kiss

our lips meet momentary.

Suddenly the air, the brickwall

is less ordinary.

Unwarry

of things to come,

my soul escapes itself,

uncautionary.

 

Later and later yet. . . .

 

The brickwall still holds the sillouette

of our spirit lips momentarly met.

One street over

is Sir Marquis Lafayette

and like him,

with each day pass you soon forget:

me, the girl, you shared stories and a cigarette.

 

It was temporary. . . .

 

However, the writer in me

is romantic and literary.

She'd let myself

be myself,

indulge myself

your gestures as primary.

Neccessary.

Contrary,

she tires of this game of solitary.

 

So a game of roulette. . .

 

In my mind, you,

I continue to resserrect,

a moment or two momentarly met.

Should I go

open my mouth and speak a minuet?

Direct?

With each day pass I shouldn't forget

this:

"A night out is  anight out.

A drunken kiss is a drunken kiss."

"

Reviews

[Lipstick_Lesbian]

I moved from New York to Los Angeles, so I naturally gravitated toward this poem based on the title. Knowing what I know about Bleeker Street, however, I never expected to find such beauty underneath that title. You captured such a delicate moment with grace and profundity. I loved this piece!

[JRB]

smooth write

Very well written poem...the words, they flow so smoothly, creating images in my mind...of a night long ago, or a night similar, where I myself had that brief moment of meeting someone, perhaps sharing a kiss, a drink, a smoke...what probably was a few hours, now feels like a moment in time, as your poem evokes me to think....

[Crazy Cat Man]

Now since I moved to NY. I can relate to this poem. I love it. Oh yes Bleeker st.