Concrete Flower Sagas Poem by James Browning Kepple

Its twilight 152 again,
And all the workers are walking,
I'm stalking about in my car
as they go on by, shuffling
New York City & all is grand,
turn that penniless frown up to
the rooftops, share it all to
the tenements, share it all in
smile down that murky hudson

Its twilight 152 in my roost
the street birds hanging from
plastic bags & rusty fire escape
Oh come now child of the smidge
on face, childlike embrace the
park with onerous mischief
you've done everything backwards

you did a good job kiddo
& in the slants of sun &
shine of lights, pour your
self a cup of share
& be happy & be kind
& sweet to the girls
getting married, for they
are so happy dream filled
in the sidewalks

for those petals
pull a little closer
to spring & pop up