Though it is that place I wish to be,

I’m lost inside my own travesty.

As well I seek solace amongst masses

hide within a world of classes.

 

Such is imagery of teeming lives

caught inside streaming archives.

Where alone a face in the crowd

somehow is always allowed.

 

I once read a master speak satire

He’d suggested how he might retire.

A brilliant life so seemed is the giver

they fished him out of the East river.

 

Even while hidden among archetype

our lives matter far beyond those type

who caress the mystique of scrutiny,

always a cry out loud for security.

 

I would if the streets would allow release

On Bleecker street, begin to find my peace.