by Jack Bowman
Street life pulses
avant-garde hookers and Johns
would-be movie stars and those
who've been given the ride
money flows into wide one-way pockets
sly smiles, hungry for more
even yellow lines in the street
have stories
a feeling of what is going on
pulse of make believe
scars on faces, on sidewalks,
etched in shadowy corners of brick
an everyman walks,
his dreams wide,
even whispers to himself in sleep
"never let go."
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