Transience the Commonplace

Transience the commonplace

It is the norm

In Brooklyn streets

Where people swarm

On Saturday night

Sunday evenings

We take part in these traditions

Going

Flowing

Rolling

As we make our way from place to place

Make our way out of Brooklyn

The next day

We will be back in Autumn soon

Under the NYC moon

Transient nights

Transient days

Transient travelers fill up

Fall out

And fill up again

We find ourselves amidst the flow

Going where the concrete goes

Back and forth

In between

We will miss the NYC scene

 

The Smell of 4 below

Ice cubes and fresh cut linens
The smell of 4 below
I need something to warm
My chilled bones
From the crisp belligerent cold
Tiny crackles with gentle steps
An Indiana landscape windswept
I need to get home
This cold assaults you
Felt left alone
In this unbearable cold