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SUNSET ON 14TH STREET

I don’t want to sound unreasonable

but I need to be in love immediately.

I can’t watch this sunset

on 14th Street by myself.

Everyone is walking fast

right after therapy, texting back

their lovers orange hearts

and unicorns—it’s insane to me.

They’re missing this free sunset

willingly! Or even worse

they’re going home to cook

and read this sad poem online.

Let me tell you something,

people have quit smoking.

They don’t get drinks

but they juice. There are

way too many photos

and most all of us look better

in them than we do in life.

What happened? This is

truly so embarrassing!

I want to make a case

for 1440 minutes every day

where we stop whatever else

is going on and look each other

in the eyes. Like dogs.

Like morning newspapers

in evening light. So long!

So much for this short drama.

We will die one day

and our cheap headlines

won’t apply to anything.

The internet will be forgotten.

All the praise and pandering.

I’d really rather take a hike

and by the way, I’m gay.

The sunset too is homosexual.

At least today, between

the buildings which are moody

and the trees (which honestly)

they look a bit unhealthy here.

They’re anxious. They’re concerned.

They’re wondering why

I’m broke and lonely

in Manhattan—though of course

I’ll never say it—and besides

it’s almost spring. It’s fine.

It’s goth. Hello! The truth is

no one will remember us.

We’re only specks of dust

or one—one speck of dust.

Some brutes who screamed

for everything to look at us.

Well, look at us. Still terrible

and awful. Awful and pretending

we’re not terrible. Such righteous

saints! Repeating easy lines,

performing our great politics.

It’s just so very boring,

the real mystery in fact

is how we managed to make room

for love at all. Punk rock,

avant-garde cinema.

I love you, reader

but you should know

the sunset’s over now.

I’m standing right in front of

Nowhere bar, dehydrated

and quite scared

but absolutely willing

to keep going. It makes sense

you do the same. It’s far

too late for crying and quite

useless too. You can be sad

and still look so good. You can

say New York is beautiful

and it wouldn’t be a headline

and it wouldn’t be a lie.

Just take a cab and not the 6,

it’s never once in ten years

been on time. It’s orbiting

some other world

where there are sunsets

every hour and no money

and no us—that’s luck!

The way to get there

clearly wasn’t written down.

Don’t let that stop you though.

Look at the sky. Kiss everyone

you can for sure.