The Writers' Circle

The first day of my life
Born upon the bridge by the park
Earth hanging in the air
Scenery still

It was the time of year
Remnants of spring lay on the sidewalk
Like fallen soldiers
Drains smoking vapour ghosts

They gather here
Admire the great cement cityscape
An army of suits
Wielding coffee cups

Coney Island neon lights
Smeared as they rush by the windows
Last breath on the subway
Catching the L-train to heaven