Greenpoint Brooklyn, 1999

Greenpoint Brooklyn, 1999

Czech rebel I remember not so much the rest dear
America what pieces of me will you keep?

It was 99 cents and yeasty and so good cold
and I don't know that anybody paid rent there

but there we were and what love I did not yet think
I knew. Dear America, do you have in small cedar boxes

my pieces of the East River that have kept me rapt
where wrapped I have held summers like that.

Dear America, do you remember that the dope
was dry shake all stems and seeds all cut with

ephedrine in glycerine capsules melting micro
dots under our tongues. What is still dear, America

this place that I come back to, sweating now in
recollection the collected plaster crumbles like snow

field raptures like me like we have never been called
dear, America. Still. Still in with the cheap stuff distilled

from the meltwater in summer, maybe tho but for
but for the condensation, the sweat on the bottle

and sweltering like we do. Dear America, we've had our
differential equations, our earthquake laser targetting

systems like eye beams the railing we have railed
our Laotian season, we tho quiet, a Graham Greene

quiet of us dear, America I have questions. I have a list
of requirements. I have unmet demands and tattoos

on the skin inside my mouth where ink like burnt skin
hangs down and scrapes against my tongue so slainte

we like our arm chair irish famine anarchists drink our own health and wonder
yet at another year dear America, we have got at least one more.