Up in New York...
I sat up there in New York
and drank endless beers,
-smoked endless bowls.
I drew pictures in pencil,
all dark and full of shadows.
I wrote poetry and prose
to document the madness of NY.
I played fetch with my dog in
August on the beaches of
Cape Cod, and hence,
felt free for a moment.
I was trapped up there in NY
thinking everything's fine,
and listening to the parents
fight through sheetrock walls.
I felt dripping on my head and
realized the cieling had a leak,
I studied Buddha and tried living
the movie of our lives.
I had a good life up in NY,
enough to make a film
or write a script atleast.
I listened to Jim Morrison's poetry
and wondered what it meant.
I heard my neighbors garage band,
and dreampt of being a rock star
up on stage and living.
I absorbed colors from the sun
and tanned while my haid turned blond.
I rode endless waves on the deck of
and old surfboard and connected,
maybe for a moment, with god or nature
or both if I got lucky.
I sat on the beach and watched sunsets
and sunrises three days consecutively
and cried for that too, it was beautiful.
Running my fingers through the sand, alone.
And in winter I went for snowy strolls
and built fires on stones,
-and so watched the flames dance
together and warmed rough,
Up in New York I wrote this poem all
grown up, and watching all my friends
do the same. We watched ourselves
mature and begin the search for
ourselves and all those other things
we happen to search for.
Up in New York we held hands and helped
eachother pull through,
and now are seperating and preparing
for our lives, but never will forget
all those wierd things we did growing up
in Old New York