ROYAL DOGS TAKE THE SUBWAY
Dog walking on the upper east side. Bears on pamphlets and yellow bags. Carrying a fruit juice box and a black and red poetry book on bees. For Royal Dogs walk the Subway and when they are out of Italian they get sweet onion teriyaki without the onion layers later. Slapping my hardcover book at you under the traffic light hair amazon blond on 86th and the first time I saw her eyes make me come home. She walked up 78th street down the park ramp over the FDR and then I stopped and turned around and our eyes met and she smiled. Then i voyaged-voyeured her ass and she appreciated my sincerity secretly in Cincinnati. My bread was banging and I became a footlong italian Frankfurter Daschelhun and licked the lips of my mommy. A Unicorn sweater on a poodle just made it wetter. Seeing her blue water short shorts made the dog pow wow at her hip line. To the Grand Chrokee rapping down the river back to John Jay Park where I played beatbox tennis with an French later over a fallen orange bike. Then I saw the construction debris fall and my blue jeaned Sk8r gurl sitting on a yellow skateboard and I thought of green and Avril Lavigne. I should have taken the high road but I took the low road but I have the magic trick of 13 shoots and ladders on 87th near Lex. That’s next to Ben Franklin’s red neon cash checking spot with the automatic lottery machine.
Anyway I left the Jose Cuervo Tequila and American Whiskey for a fantasy of soda flavored sea like its fanta in a Superorganism music video. Everyone wants to be famous and there’s only one low road to follow if you want to make it to the top of royal yellow and purple peaks. It’s the dog life looking to wet their unsaid words in the water fountains that are dry in the Corona Age. You have to leave this behind, outside and in. A few days remain in this stale game to be stopped. Like Robin hood I take the poor out of the rich green and vice versa.