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I saw the ghost of Whitman bathing in Bethesda Square,
The mounted beat cops directing traffic on a moonless Manhattan night,
The St. Marks street queens stalking rainbows with a poet’s flair.
.
There were treasures hidden everywhere,
The bikini beauties tending bar and trading verses with the travelers downing pints,
I saw the ghost of Whitman bathing in Bethesda Square.
.
From the top of Rockefeller Center you could have combed the starlight’s lovely hair,
Seen the children blessing tired parents with their laughter on a perfect April night,
The St. Marks street queens stalking rainbows with a poet’s flair.
.
It was almost more than I could bear,
To be without you as the birds in Central Park took flight,
I saw the ghost of Whitman bathing in Bethesda Square.
.
Each night I would climb the hotel’s winding stair
And dream of you with all my might,
The St. Marks street queens stalking rainbows with a poet’s flair.
.
Your passing was proof that life was never fair,
That even those we love will vanish faster than the speed of light,
I saw the ghost of Whitman bathing in Bethesda Square,
The St. Marks street queens stalking rainbows with a poet’s flair.
Copyright 2015 Kareem Tayyar. First published in Magic Carpet Poems (Tebot Bach)
Wonderful!
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Reminds me of the Hopper painting, Nighthawks.
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