The Riddance

The Riddance

By Ben Nardolilli

Hazy lights, Magellanic crowds, 

I slip into their frames, as skeuomorphic 

Clicks capture my head, my leg, my arm,

Half of my face, a third of my ass,

Everyone is a mascot, in costume for a show

While gabbing in postcard garb

And me? I’m trying to move quickly

In and out of the traffic, over the feet, 

Behind the buildings, through the meatsmoke,

Trying to catch the train before I lose 

The track and the time, before I forget home,

And before Times Square catches me