Every ladder in New York infects my street.
Their hoses slop,
fat white snakes on dusted concrete
and spraying water shimmers back the Morse of rooftop lights.
On the stairs I meet a fireman,
and his eyes dream
of burning.
Every ladder in New York infects my street.
Their hoses slop,
fat white snakes on dusted concrete
and spraying water shimmers back the Morse of rooftop lights.
On the stairs I meet a fireman,
and his eyes dream
of burning.