Mr. Fred's Poetry Corner: Brooklyn '65

One of mine, from a couple of years ago. I know, poetry! Uggh! But it's only once is a while. Quit your complaining!

Brooklyn ‘65


Cold and clear the drafty old sedan,
Cigarette smoke, some friends and rock and roll
For company on this boring weekday night,
Let’s go to New York and play a game
Of ‘Bang the Poor Old Unsuspecting Bum.’”

Lots of gas in the tank, a good choice
For some good clean urban fun to break
The tedium of another week in school,
It runs good too, the tires almost new,
Maybe we should take them before we dump it.

Tony in the back seat rolling up a joint,
He spent his last five dollars on a bag,
No sweat, later we’ll all help him out,
Get some White Castle after all this beer
And reefer makes us hungry.

Across the old bridge, the city lights
Subdued, light traffic, the commerce slowed,
The City devoted now to fun,
After mid-night, music, restaurants, bars,
Time enough tomorrow to make money.

People in New York have lots of bad habits,
Like crossing the street, they never stand back,
Drivers know the deal, go straight,
No slowing, no stopping, the guy will cross
When we’ve passed him and cleared the way.

“There’s a guy!” now cheerful, “Bobby, get him.”
“Not too fast, Shithead, like the last fuckin’ time.”
An overcoat and wild hair, crossing right to left,
Waiting for his chance, but too far out,
Slower now, and swinging out the door . . . Poom/Bang!

“I missed it Tony! Did you see his face?”
“Yeah! It lit up like a Christmas Tree!”
Another hour or so, Canal, the Bowery,
Bobby took a turn at the wheel, four doors
And they Christened three of them.


NOTE: Of course I was an angel myself. Don't try this at home!