That was the day at Eileen’s Cheesecake.
I sat alone at the window while she smoked her cigarette
And asked me how I liked it,
I wanted to say, it tastes like ashes and abandon.
But I nodded like a bobble-head sold on the sidewalk,
Made her cigarette taste good.
That was the day you and I shared everything:
My money, cereal, textbooks, twin blade and a twin bed
The day we missed our train and my feet cried iron
You told me you didn’t dance, and I should have worn appropriate shoes.
And as I roamed the same grey pavement for hours,
You slept, like a faded neon sign far off in California
While I stood outside drinking smog and rain,
Flirting with Broome Street.