Poetry: "A Song of Second Ave"

A Song of Second Ave

Davey Snubbs, Class of 2022

Some nights, I walk the district,

feeding off of the spectacle there.

The cold is no obstacle as I hunker behind

walls of leather, breath barricaded,

and gaze on from my watchtowers.

Dancers trip the uneven pavements,

bustled bees swarming techno hives.

In sodium streetlife,

belts and tights and denim alike

flicker flash second flesh

under the neon glum of pub light.

Chitter chatter, she really said that, yes I’m not driving home;

tomorrow, an aunt is off to see her newborn niece—if she wakes up on time.

There’s the homeless man who sleeps all day

and begs at night.

Drunks aren’t stingy in the dark.

He hasn’t seen the whites of another’s eyes since Fall.

Only greys suit his gaze.

He’s only here for a few more days,

till his son arrives.

Grease on the air flows through Irish flags and forgotten pubs

where rabbits or rats make their nests.

A laugh from the Mexican man selling Chinese food

echoes into an alley where lovers love.

Bouncers like sentries,

a busload of drunks,

and footsteps behind you

find me hoping for Spring to come soon.