Bridled around numbered avenues and lingering beneath neon signs of industry
the loss congregate
heads still bopping to the faint sound of Charles Mingus records spinning in the living rooms of deceased fiends and foes
taken by time and dope
Empty coffee cup spasms for spare change outside iron horse stations makes dimly lit Bowery alleys come to life
with shadowy images tightening leather belts and syringe piercings
Horrendous coughs releasing day old black tar phlegm
Bottles
The amplified sound of decaying skin scratches reverberate through Great Jones St.
Skulls levitate just above sidewalks, mid nod
Still slightly bopping to Mingus
In search of the greatest Jones.
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