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Sullen Happenings
Great mishaps have
brought me to this borough:
radial blue—circles
browsing through the air.
electric yellow—waves
soaring through one’s hair.
motley brown—grounded
firmly in ground’s roots.
All of this I have seem to forgotten,
for Long Island’s severed truths.
Justice did me no right by
telling me two weeks in advance
of my move to this foreign land,
away from Pax, food-stands
illuminated, timbers truncated,
street lights glowing prominently
in the night’s opulent distractions.
Crossing the avenue, we had
finally made it Home—this avenue
that no longer demands a name,
for remembrance rings staunchly
like Aurelius to Rome.
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