Watching the sun go down
next to a container ship
twenty times the size of my block
wondering how many of my bikes would fit
inside her.
Clouds hanging close
wondering why
my sisters and brother and I
do not live here.
Fire belly
Go home to
Leave.
In the shoals, the tide rolling out,
jelly fish. Harmless jelly fish and
more seaweed than you can see through
two inches away from the breakers
frothing spit on the pebbles
and shit back washed.
The stink of Jersey a memory and the
Goethals bridge full of promise
in the 90s.
Gotham
can wait.
Let me sprint
on the shore of Staten Island.
