Bittersweet Brooklyn

Just a Californian spending the night in New York.

Bittersweet Brooklyn welcomed me with open skies in the late afternoon
And I would have been more grateful if she had worn more deodorant
Brushed her knots out,
Maybe even shaved a little but
I guess it's the thought that counts

The rusted skyline fades in the west
While a thunderstorm cracks incandescent lightning bolts at the east
The rumble of trucks in their journeys through the streets of Brooklyn
And for an insignificant moment
I envy them
For they have a destination
And I am already here

I sit halfway out of the third story apartment window
Hoping the nighttime air would embrace me
Instead the midday Summer humidity
Left behind in the Afternoon's retreat
Smog, and heat, and sweat, cover the city
I can feel it on my skin
In my eyes
And it smells like
Dying atmosphere
I look up and I notice that LA and NY
Share the same faded black fabric sky
That does nothing much but receive our light
And gives none back
The moon must be pretty lonely
Waiting for God to pinhole constellations
To make shapes with
To make stories with
To shed some light on a city that already believes it is enlightened
But florescence cast no shadows
and if they even do that
Then what the hell can they really know
Besides being artificial

Soon after , Brooklyn blankets me with electric clouds
That only manage to trap heat beneath them
"Brooklyn," I say, "You really shouldn't have."
But she accepts it as a "thank you" anyway
I can never be facetious enough for this city

Exhausted but not quite fatigued
I smoke a Black and Mild and sip a Heineken
I do not usually smoke this much
But it feels appropriate
I might as well share toxic halitosis
If the city and I are gonna be breathing each other
But my cancer tastes much better than her's

Brooklyn starts to cry into my Lager but I sip it just the same
Funny, the reasons why one drinks

Sometimes it's a novelty thing

Sometimes it's a way to dress ones mask

You must have no will to live
"Maybe that's true," I whisper to the ground
Two windows down
Sometimes it's a way to get in my head

The sky rumbles a little bit
"Don't worry," I say
"I wouldn't want to die in your arms anyway"

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

"Bittersweet Brooklyn welcomed me with open skies in the late afternoon
And I would have been more grateful if she had worn more deodorant"
I'm from Michigan. I went to the east coast cities. Too many people and the city go on forever. I know the feeling of this poem. Those old cities can be cold and hard. I like the beer and cigar. As a young man I roam the Eastern Cities trying to find reason and purpose for life. Thank you for the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[PianoandPage]

i absolutely love the first stanza. this piece reads as film noir. it has that sort of sketchy back beat. i could visualize you mic'ing this in front of a subdued jazz band.

you spend a lot of time on the sky, the atmosphere, and the sort of oppressive lonliness that i imagine manhattan nights to be like. good job on taking me there with you.

i also really enjoyed how you made manhatten this unkempt girl, this weirdly fascinating creature that makes you uncomfortable.

the bit about the moon waiting for god to prick constellations felt weak. not sure why. i LOVE the concept but the wording lost something. i wish i could pinpoint it down exactly.

you are always a pleasre to read my friend.

[Hazy Daze]

Very nice imagery. I like the writing style on this too it's very easy to read.