chagall backdrop

I could tell that I’d crossed some line
by the looks on the faces about me

A hush
aghast
tsk

puckered
sour
tuckered
mother
fuckers
that they are

and me
playing bongos
on a Styrofoam cup
gone gonzo

the nuyoricano
bozo smelling
of chorizo
and ouzo

yearning to be
set free

feel the cold winds
blanket
my soul

brace myself
with hot
astringent bitters

at the poets cafe
it doesn’t feel
like 3rd Street
no more

© Carlos Chagall, 2013