You were sipping Manhattan's finest coffee in the morning.
(No backlash, feathers in your hand, butterfly on your wrist)
Busy streets were distracted by your checkered palms, and noiseless arms.
Your canyon smile was scattered on the ground.
Beware. Beware.
The sound of screaming troubles, and recurring problems were covered by the blatant crowds of St. Mark's.
Sid to my Nancy.
Fist up in the sky.
Rebel yell.
The coffee was getting colder.
And the day was getting shorter.
(Your Jew ancestor was growing inside of my thoughtless brain).
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