Old jersey to new york city

houses eight feet apart
i can feel your pain
new brunswick;
union;
rahway;
linden;
new jersey-
so old to me.

oh america,
new jersey,
please save me
cause im dying
from your twenty-five cent
enforced street parking,
VFW post rundown and cracking,
like
polish food kitchens,
extreme weather confusion,
bubble gum smacking
middle-agers.
new york city:
dirt town america,
please save me-
I'm going down
on you

Feeding this machine
we're all alone

and in our obesity
stocking up for the end

fighting the feeling
and blending into

correcting our vision
impaired

turning same to unique
pour food into our tank

acting like clowns
blind dumb hungry and fat

Dollars saved and soul lost

the black and orange
town checklist
caught me once more
and i defended myself
with a quick purchase
of a fake-princetonian hat
ive wanted to buy
and did
before leaving town
hungry, poor, and thin.

i left the windows
in that room
bleeding
like they always did
and the stripped radiator
kissing the cinder wall
in reflection of drying
snow-dampened shoes;
a folding chair facing out
at the naked branches holding snow,
an empty dresser talking
to the empty desk,
and a tangled strand
of xmas lights
tickling the wood wall
with warm leaving light.