4/5: The View from Bushwick
Text insert. Who’s the bastard here? Our landlord almost
pious in his negligence, he touches my rent the inspectors
will materialize. Surely the street concurs, but former
Dregs of Europe declass themselves relentlessly, doffing
their earphones and shoving them back in; this when
a neighborhood gives a big Hello Kitty punch in the face,
knocks them into the subway, PDA-wielding paramecia
pushing behind in the turnstile to bugger a free ride.
Young’uns stream out of their lofts and onto the platform;
this the Art Commute their realtors exhorted. Singular
acts of kein-ness: chatting each other to wireless torpor,
short-lease meditations on holy foreclosure; cleansed
conscience and an Oasis of Whitey slumming the barrio,
sexing up Dollar Shops, snorting tubs of take-out pozole
after under-tipping the Exploited
Delivery Amigo
who bikes it into their hands.
(from "Sonnetailia" Roof Books, New York, 2007. Copyright © by Marc Nasdor. All rights reserved.)