Langston Re-connects @Union Square

Inspiration does not come cheap.
Try $11.10 for this paper.
A brand new pad.
And a box of pens.
Those pilot, sharp ones—
“Sharpies” for short.
12-to-a box.
Coke and smoke.
Picnic table at Union Square.

(A dull film blends the day)
Heatwaves broke.
Better sitting out here than in the air-conditioned bookstore.
With that computer tourist.
I think I labeled her a “dud.”
As trotting down the escalator under repair for a month.
It occurred to me:
Hours’ worth of reading produced
not the slightest glance.
No love simulation there.
Enveloped in our malicious selves,
posted with the dubious of honor.
New York style.
I see you. You see me.
But, we don’t see each other.
Fate must get up and walk away.

Hey, you, left to your seething self.
Join the joyride!
Parade with the clotted mass,
en-route to and fro Farmer’s Market.
Ah! Those iron horse devils.
They never sweat.
Nor exhaust from a hefty day.
Just laboring behind a desk.

the pigeons creep.
The benches are full.
Smell of fried chicken
wafting from somewhere.
Friday, 5:32PM times that start
of a wandering weekend.

Washington Square Park?
Central Park?
a long shot…
we’ll wonder some more.
Re-inspiration has returned.
And these pages of strangers.
Welcome me home,
Soul Man!

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