
One way or another I’m gonna get ya
to the city that never smiles
not even yellow cab drivers arguing
about who pays the Tribeca toll
Crashing at the Pennsylvania
just across from the Garden
I’m wondering if I can go the distance
before blowing my mind
We walk and walk and walk
clutching cheap vodka
disguised as lemonade
blisters on feet
all the way from Brooklyn
where empty towers
have vanished from the eye line
Gives me hope behind a dumpster
in the village of lost souls
in return for half a dozen beers
and a trashy tee shirt
to go with that thousand yard stare
With a crocodile tear
I listen in faint disbelief
as I hear her say
I’m not enough for her
I smile at a dead body on the sidewalk
and think of home
Which you don’t get anywhere else
© Ash Cheyne 2017