You must go to Joey’s and get the clams
With her short hair and her deep eyes
Italian blood
But you know that story about Joey
She sighs
If he gets cheap and doesn’t give you the fresh
Flour bread
Let him know
Crazy Donna from Cookie Box
Said
“He’s dead!”
We spent the morning chatting
In the gym
On the stationary bike
She was straight out of
The godfather
Or Sopranos
I was so much intrigued
Her stories had my mind fatigued
These stories that loom on these streets
You must take time to listen
To stories of the pre-madonna
and the truely gritty
All float above the belts
Of mouths
In New York City
