The View

I see the Verrazano Bridge
Outside my window which
I pointlessly refuse to shut.
I see the autumn trees galore;
The giant rocks along the shore;
The decay of my best friend’s hut.

And all those Midwood synagogues;
The ancient store of Uzbek rugs,
The Avenue of the Stray Cats.
I live on the eleventh floor,
The more I live up here the more
Expensive my rent gets.

I stretch my skinny hand to reach
The grandeur of the silver bridge —
I know that sounds really dumb —
I’d better try to rhyme much less,
My life has been a total mess
Since I discovered Cuban rum.



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