Manhattan Island Poem by Romeo Della Valle

Down the avenue I go-
Soulful and slow
To the drum of a Manhattan beat
In worn out jeans
Passed money machines
Between sugar highs
And poverty lows...

Express couriers-
Express benefits
Expressing through traffic
-'tick, tick'
Attractive expressions
Seemingly breath
The herbal remedy-whoa...
The sixties split...

Inching on my waste-post-haste!
I don't even know her, all I said
Marathon's food wars seize my head
Testing the endurance
Of last mistakes...

Tights with ladders-
Air conditioned toes
Numbering the steps
From east third street,
Cellophane wrappers
Hold twelve red roses,
Holy pointed shoes-
Batman-I am it!

Express to nowhere
This northbound train
Is going express to central
But actually to nowhere...
Thoughts jerking along
Opposite maddening unavoidable
Stares of passengers
Hopelessly fixed to one spot
Until the chapter destination
Is read-but not heard...
There-shuffling out
Pressing against coats
Of anonymous backs...
And winding a familiar path
Of possibilities
Out of the subway...


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