A Slow Drive By by Lepadah

Apart from tenements, clothes line
stoop side characters
drive by; drive thru
rows of Queen Anne's
Mother, Daughter
Dutch, English tudors
gas lit Harwich Port lampposts
removed replicas from piccadilly circus

attache' full of Woody . . .
organically grown
never expected; well protected
flame to her black and mild cigar
blowing stacks to Toots brilliance
"Breakfast at Tiffany's"
we are so inconspicuous

go ahead babe . . . capture the crescent
ornament in the sky with no string
"amazing!!!" are you high?
let's do that drive by
Eddie's Sweet Shop

drop offs, pick ups
under eggshell hues
this is my friend
a wise guy and one millionaire
she is a poet; a friend of mine
we all laugh
out of our slick corner mouth's
narrow lies; twisted trues

forget Armani suits
he rather wear lee jeans; mountain boots
his Bushmaster AR-15 just in case we have to blow this gig

gather inside Pampas
a round table crowded hot pans shellfish, chicken paella
Argentine beef, oil fused wild mushrooms bedded scalloped smooth potatoes
now we eat, drink wine, pontificate
political rhetoric funding anew revolt
with Wall Street Occupied
under siege by the 99%
there she sits with the 1%

a poor poet
sourcing undercurrents of illegal interest
an evening where money really matters . . .



© 2011 Lepadah