two cities

Leonardo Faierman
Feb 25, 2017 · 1 min read

can’t find you in my city tonight

denied in its windows

dignified on its many escalators and

barren hoarse voiced

announcements

phantom molecules of where you were and moved

where you danced over ocher puddles in beaten

black leather boots

the rest of you slips into them under

serene tight jeans serene

clicking into the edge of the water with barely

a splash

and your smile again

it’s pushed through masonry and lasered

glass into midtown and the

coughing stars

raining into painted scaffolds

smirking into melted snow on the

sloped ridged curb

until midtown itself is your smile

ragged with stories untold immaculate like

painted wings growing closer

in flight

tonight the colors come green

antique olive green wooden frames cold and humid

remembered by your hands

green lingering hues under rectangular streetlights where

insects would gather if not for the cold

smile is a city

a beveled park to meditate away the cold

place where i can sit down

smile is that park

hiding its life

the whole entire wild unknowable unreachable city

misses you

thinks of you and waits inside of

itself for you

i step down subway stairs to you (smile is

stairs) and i run to catch the

smile at the last

second and i am exactly in time for

the smile which

never happens

Leonardo Faierman

Written by

Writer, editor, contributor @BlackGirlNerds, writer/co-creator of @snow_daze_comic, hire me for shit