Free these city streets
beneath her feet
burden by concrete
sky tower, tenements, pigeons perched
gutter rats dwindle from the light
there's something kinda beautiful here
to early rise
a yellow ball east of China town
off broadway and the bridge buckling down
the city illusive . . .
with no ninjas just chaotic chinese
chopped into Bruce Lee videos and wind chimes
continue to ring in dingy take outs
doorway standing nursing a plastic container
rice noodles, baby bok choy
ribbons of steam twirl upwards
inhale, blow, sip . . .
pabulum to a dawn soul
leaving here would be breaks away from insanity
suicide, sexual romper room
maybe this time . . . maybe this time
they'll let love win
between the two them
thru a crying breeze
into the bayou of Antee's youth
made of sugar tea, liquor lemonade and women so free
you'll find the love in your food
she love to taste colors
that of the moon
some blood red
some sunny
some blue; blue as your mood
some black like a storm cloud
pink like tomorrow's promise to you
love the sound of his hard pluck
of a deserted guitar
biting bits of raw honey
off her black berry lips
kissing into broken french
he conjured up a dance
in audubon beds of foxglove flowers
late noon to swinging string
falling at the hem of her pinafore
flirting peeks of brown sweet thighs
chasing after the moon in the Louisiana sky

maybe this time
maybe this time
she'll let love in
Just maybe this time she'll let this love win

© 2012 Lepadah