Taxi Driver

What to say when a question is posed
Like a bull in a China shop…
The only answer lay dumbfound-ed on the tongue of an exiled wise-ass   
“So, uh what about you, dating yet or uh, anything…?”  
That is how the question game begins
Twisting in the wind via self-preservation, defensiveness… and
A touch of whatthefuck –
One way ticket directly to Hell
Do not pass go or collect two hundred dollars…
Just answer the question and hit the high road, get out of Dodge
A fast train to…no where 
The reply is not as quick witted as a sniper's shot
Answers flying solo on the wrong side of the road
While the stakes are higher still as Park Avenue never crosses Broadway
And the mortgage was lost on a free toss...Dooms Day 1929
Spin the wheel of fortune, on the down beat I can name that tune
Just the slightest hint and charades is no longer much of a challenge
Along with finding the misplaced Shroud of Turin
In a small apartment on the lower side of Tribeca
At a film festival that draws only an exclusive crowd
While a slight echo bounces around the inside of my head
For a writer I find myself at a complete loss for words....
So in my best De Niro I take aim and fire…

“…you talkin to me?” 

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Walk The Streets Of Tribeca

I walk the streets 
where you used to live, 
the city you thrived in
The city you fell in love with, 
the city that set you free;
while at the same time crippling you - 
taking away any sense of coherency
But, you, you were alright, 
you were a shining star
you were on fire, 
the pretty boy 
with the moody green eyes, 
the seductive faraway stare
You lived in the city 
that pulled you over the edge 
Submerging you into darkness,
driving you to cut deeper 
until your art bled 
into oblivion 
Your creative energy dripped 
like an intravenous 
main lining junkie;
scores strewn across the floor 
Your best work,
your brilliance blinds 
The toll -
twenty years 
of your precious life, 
twenty years 
of a collective genius 
I walk the streets 
where you used to live, 
the city you played in, 
wishing I had known you then -
The clubs that filled 
with locals 
1970-something 
vagabonds 
creative types;
the abstract overly talented 
movers and shakers -
to the point of their own absurdity,
just to catch a glimpse 
of your vibrancy -
bringing out the lacking 
in their own luster 
You were 
one of a kind, 
a rare find 
Unique in a time 
of originality 
An artist to your core,
and yet between all the lines 
praise, paranoia and deception 
the purity of your soul 
was lost on most 
and stolen from you 
before you understood 
what it meant to have a life;
only to let life have you - 
Twenty years you said, 
twenty years and it had to end
There was joy in your eyes 
as they took you away,
a sense of peace 
We didn't realize 
our last kiss 
was an unknown 
...farewell 
Finally, twenty years lost
and finally you had it all
And in that finality,
in a moment,
in an instant,
you were gone...
I walk the streets 
in the city you loved
I walk the streets of Tribeca,
imagine running into you  -
Our eyes would meet,
on some magical level
there is a glimmer of recognition
You would smile only slightly
then turn away 
I'd write my name
on a piece of paper 
and slip it into your pocket
as you brush past  -
looking back
knowing you will find it
and fall in love with me 
...someday

© 2014 TrilbyYates