I sat outside and watched the pageant.
a flurry of finer things,
beautiful people with beautiful souls,
they all held a certain air about them
a beacon of épanouis among
everyday coal that gets
trapped under your finger nails,
the grime on the rails
of the seventh street subway station,
they stuck out like kids made of stone.
I knew that I didn't belong inside.
simple admiration
from under the storm,
yellow umbrella over my head,
sterling skyscrapers gleaming gold
seemed to shine brighter
in my awestruck eyes
than all the powdered stars that
spread across the amethyst
canvas of the night,
I watched
a young man
step inside,
he had a lover on his lapel
a million singers on his mind
eyes of broken kaleidoscopes,
red dahlia in his overcoat,
an old man's stare
and sorry smile that
brightly shone
through three-four time,
my waltz
was far too tattered
for that pantomime place.
this young heart raced over her mellifluous face and
the shine of soft lights
on colored crystals
blues and pinks and yellows
glowing softly through the room
a beautiful girl
luminous with life
thin pink lips
dawned a clever smile
the smell of fresh flowers
sitting in static water
and perfume creeping from
the necks of painted woman,
overwhelmed my
underwhelming psyche, I couldn't
stand to be myself anymore
when everybody
was somebody else,
and everybody
loved somebody else,
and everybody
had somebody else,
and I just had myself.
my tiger stripes and
timid poems and
memories of haunted homes
where pretty girls drew
horror from their dreams
until they found an even better
shaking hand to hold,
just hold on tight, okay?
and don't let go, okay?
so here I'll sit,
though it often gets cold
and the snow slowly builds up
and the rain soaks my clothes
and my shoulders dawn
a goosebump shawl,
a copper kettle screams withdrawal
in the cabinet where it's kept forever
because I never
went back home,
I just sit here,
all on my own.
I just sit here,
and watch the pageant
from under my parapluie jaune.
