Soul Home

I hear the undertones of Tompkins Square
As a man in a stretched out mint green
T-shirt sings “Black Hole Sun” to his cronies
On the bench and verbally harasses his
Girlfriend in an attempt towards masculine intimacy
Beneath the din pigeons silently prune their feathers
Making the air downy and soft
While a humid sun filters through the trees
Refreshing in a New York kind of way
I would like to fall to my knees and make an
Offering to the gods of this land
The ones that lived here before we lived here
Before anyone lived here and it was so quiet
With the Hudson River lapping softly against the
Craggy rocks on the East Side and
Northeastern wildlife wandered freely and even though
I may be the wild life these days
I drink the old soul of this island and think
I’ve lived here before in fact
I’ve always lived here

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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