Nights

some nights uptown in Inwood the streets are colored in yellow light deserted by the time he was there the buildings reflected their age onto the sidewalks bathed in neon shadows and the East River down the cliffs glistens the old apartment buildings with art deco trims sleep in the still air

he ran down the highway like a bullet to the clubs downtown where flashes of wanton youth travel out of the dark exits and into the backseat

fast over the bridge to Brooklyn over and through the black, ancient streets through the back alleys of New York to the back neighborhoods lost off of Flatbush as far as the Kingdom of Laos from the metropole lying splendid across the river

and fast he went over the water on the ancient bridge that rides into the tenements where his great grandparents lived at the backend of the great city

and fast he went to the clubs now rupturing sleek skinned legs and black velvet coats pushed him over to the sleeping buildings that house the jade and gilded antiques cashmere and lynx and thick oriental rugs caverns of wealth overlooking the river that sparkles under the city's lights

he rode over the bridge over midtown now silent in the deep hours, the city was somnolent and the night listened