Whitestone Bridge Song (Looking for Take-Out)

Chewy caramels
stuck to the bottom
of a green duffel
dent a stretch of gum,
a wad, like bullets
stopped dead,against
armored shields.
Sticky rice and steel-cut oats
kept from last week-
souls, empty bowls
last filled? I don’t know when.
Saved in plastic ziplocks,
tight as drum heads, battened down
for the snare roll and floor toms.
Have you heard?
There’s good audio tonight
The downbeat tones
the air – it looked pudgy.
Up above, black crows,
bass lines of squawks
along the wires buckling below
a tightrope ace whose sneakers
hang for the memories.
A big apple handful stands
smack dab on the toll road,
making sense of confusion-
weaving and changing lanes
One more topsy turvy look
through the legs,
the drivers hold on
so their heads won’t
bump the roof.
Cold breakfast
has got me on the run.