I type in a dim
dark room listening to surf.
There’s an app for that.
Ocean waves
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I type in a dim
dark room listening to surf.
There’s an app for that.
90 knows me well,
her sinuous curves — through five
states — lead me onward.
Red blue brown green pink
purple lines, veins arteries
pulse with commuters.
Though Burnham’s Folly’s
in New York, he saved his best
for his hometown dreams.
What naiad dances
in your pulsing, surging heart,
calling me to her?
City of Shoulders
Your fountains bring tears, your sky
scrapers pierce my heart.
She contemplates bangs,
a different color, hair
as reinvention.
At the Happiest
Place on Earth, worn-out tots shriek,
deprived of their naps.
With more handlers than
Lindsay, their paparazzi –
parents; stalkers – tots.
Fastpass, Magic Hours,
maximizing each for the
most fun possible.