Leaves fall and gather
between taxi-cabs and curbs,
waiting for someone
to grow tired of wading
through the raw November air.
I get impatient
with the pavement while darkness
comes and goes with the
passing of a cloud above
cold steel and concrete heavens.
Rows of yellow lights
pause then turn to red then green
and illuminate
the asphalt night wet with rain
and scattered broken bottles.
Somewhere uptown on
Amsterdam a girl I know
has crescent eyes, legs
that creep into the night with
stockings damp from grief and shame.
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