She’s giving structures to the clay,
Goes by the name of Star.
I wrote this stanza just to say
Au Revoir,
The Bronx,
And Staten Island
— You’re the best! —

Don’t call me back, oh don’t you, please,
I’m flying home to shift my quest.
I thank you for your magic shrooms,
For lonesomeness of narrow rooms;

For havoc in the late-night train;
The weather totally insane.

I’ll miss your liberated air,
The junkies near Union Square,

The choking mist of Brighton Beach,
The bike-lane on the Brooklyn Bridge,

The hipsters wearing slim-fit pants
With their stupid indie-bands.

I won’t forget your starless sky,
The hopeless bum’s deceptive cry,

The kiss I earned from that drunk girl —
A winter night — upon her curls

Those snowflakes’ shimmered just like us,
As we both hoped she’d miss her bus…

…Oh, New York, I am maybe mad,
These lines might be my worst regret,

But Star is all my heart demands,
I want to hold her gentle hands,

Yes, she might say we’re only friends;
Beginnings have so many ends…

Yet it’s her voice I heard at nights
In Midwood, Gravesend, Brooklyn Heights,

She whispered, “Soulmates never die…”
They never meet to say goodbye.

They never meet to say goodbye.



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