Q
Something smells like a blend of stale cigarettes
Tainting my delicious signature scent
Russian orthodox dude,
perusing the Talmud.
Gay boys gaze at each other from across the aisle
Sucking iced venti something, with a really big smile
Undoubtedly alluring, Sounds necessary
The venti-something, NOT the fairy!
Yet, Miles away
It’s all so close to what's turning up today
I can still feel the reverberation from this morning’s play
I think that my decision is made, I will stay.
I am deeper in trance, from looking above
As I trek out to Brooklyn to see my sister I love
7th avenue,
Into prospect heights I purge
Park place and Carlton corner, where they merge
Gran Castillo de laqua smellin’
mucho bueno, I am yellin!
Tenement Structures forever surviving
As urban chic lesbians buy them thriving
Years of stories that I can not explain
But I feel their tales in the walls
As my energy begins to wane
Italian mother cooks a meal
Macaroni cheese, with something so unreal
Delicious root compote laces the plate
While we much with delight and label it great
Sister treat
Loves me so
Satisfying and complete
My sisah is soul that I can count on
She listens to my shit and suggests style I don
From La Venezia in park winter
To Madonna, in sanctioned vintner
Memories galore,
So much so, that I stopped keeping score
I remember them all, With reckless abandon,
ecstasy in ration, whitie-tighties in fashion
Green Jeans and Armani Scenes
Ingrid knows what she likes cleaned.
Our little secret,
I won’t tell
Those are tales my journals know well
That is why, I just have to be clear
I will trek to New Jersey with her to cheer
As goddess will server, candy shop treats
As we dance on the floor, screaming her beats
So October 4th will make history, forever more
As my sister and I come home with our throats sore.
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