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Dan Sicoli
Email: Slipdan@aol.com
Publications: Heathenzine, Pearl, Sheila-Na-Gig, Vinyl Elephant, Zero City, KYEzine, Stirring V2:E1, etc.
Other: Co-editor and Co-founder of Slipstream Magazine and Press
TERMINAL
i
no special night
it rains
crippled umbrellas discarded
in street corner cans
42nd street on reds
as old china white
sparkles in neon eyes
of old bojangle shines
one mumbles something
tell him “the e train”
he nods contented
no special night
it’s saturday
greenwich is alive somewhere
and a girl is in love
she always is
a chill exhales
through
shaven trees of central park
and down untrimmed avenues
with a cigarette lodged deep
in his porcupine face
half dead vet trembles
above subway tremors
he stares listlessly
into madison avenue posters
ii
plenty of hours
and no chairs
bearded kid sits on his suitcase
reading the post
guitar at his side like
a labrador
both waiting for a greyhound
cop rips off 8th avenue
almost slips on wet tiles
adjusts his coat
and lights a stogie
in marlboro town
i steal a seat
in the non-smoking circle
think of bleecker street café
think of a waitress with a mole
riding her upper lip
think of her
and it rains
8 tanked g.i.’s
bounce loose off the 14
like children
into big slop of borough
they will own midnight
they will lose dawn
clocks run on empty
times has sold out
racing forms linger
old jazz lady
with 6 or 7 teeth
smiles as she
picks her numbers
debates her stakes
for saratoga
sweet indispensable dreams
in saratoga
like sweet disintegrating dreams
of new york
here stroking my watch
stretching the band
stretching the seconds
spending an evening for a bus
i bet on the 32
think of new jersey
pain in my heart
pain in my pants
iii
found love in a 4th avenue
apartment tonight
an actress/waitress
rolling a joint
in candle darkness
burning our fingers
burning our love
ashes disperse between our bodies
the roach smoldering
a slow smoky death in glass tray
iv
3rd season of the city
last inning for the yanks
8th & 42nd aflame
as it rains
on peep shows of autumn
lights dribble down wet pavement
my watch has stopped
feet are asleep
love ready to expire
to think of you frightens me
still i long for something
as this night laughs to tears
penetrating this isolated heart
of no special saturday night