Fire Escape Blues
<p>A dream of life and death in East Village —</p>
<p>Narrow, sterile walls that I skim with hesitant fingertips as</p>
<p>I throw open, wedge Shakespeare into the sill, and ease through window</p>
<p>Curling, clutching knees into chest,</p>
<p>naked toes gently balancing over the iron grates of the fire escape.</p>
<p>Drunk voices floating upward through the warm August night,</p>
<p>Darkness and twinkle lights separate my nest from the Turkish bathhouse across the courtyard rooftops.</p>
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