Misadventures with crumb scrapers in NYC
by Dawn Anderson and David Ellis
skipping a serpentine path
through the Broadway throng.
Bobbing and weaving
Observing knitted, furrowed brows
Drinking intermittent rain through eager skin.
The city is a jungle of flashing billboard trees
fruited with M&Ms, Legos, and smiling vibrators.
If you walk far enough, you fall off the grid
Cooking on the smoky asphalt
Perspiring like a boiled egg
We hunt the elusive French torchbearer
who hides in the mirrored canopy
as we run clak clak circles underground
only to immerge flapping, Dumbos into the sweltering city
with rumbly, laughing bellies,
swinging a machete against the thick foliage of shops
hoping to stumble upon curried & chandeliered sustenance.
Maybe we’ve stumbled on to something bigger
A private party full of cheaply priced liquor
City slickers on the wrong side of town
No room at the inn but we found our salvation
With doggy bags for the ride home
With the wisdom of superheroes
time is the predator ignored
as we munch on Father’s Day pretensions,
licking fingers and talking smack,
only to flee, hat in hand,
to the drag queen den of glittery red kinky boots.
And as the orchestra swells
Emotions run wild, rampant, a veritable gamut
Spit out, raw, travelling from past to present
Prejudice stamped out, new beginning unleashed
The city moon is waning now
so spill your secrets and pre-pay your consulting fees
intrepid heart travelers
before the early shuttle
parts your entwined fingers
marking the spot with a blue paperclip
and turning the page
to the next chapter of the adventure.
A fairytale that just keeps on unfolding
As we dance merrily in TaterTot dreams
For if no man is an island
Then no woman can understand him
All except this one
New York – what a town!