In Times Square, it’s
twenty minutes
past midnight,
there’s a broken champagne
bottle at our feet,
slipped loose
from a pal’s
whoops.
Garbage floats by like kids
in a Halloween parade. Cops
clip-clop past on horseback, keeping
elevated sight lines secure.
And that’s about it.
The crowd’s gone.
Seeped through grating
down to the rumble.
Cold streets left to
we scattered few
post-apocalyptic
topsiders.
awesome. but, i dropped the bottle, not my brother. i can still picture our party, in a circle, staring at the broken champagne bottle and lost bubbly as everyone around us reveled in the new year.
we lost more than the champagne that night. we lost our sober innocence. or drunken evil. or a bottle of mumms.
this is like one of those movie’s where the wrong guy takes the fall, and a poem is written about it. And then years later the guilty fellow — his brother no less! — steps forward, and the poem is changed to more accurately reflect the truth! -Cecil
i dont remember any of this..i dont because I was there…i wasnt,,,i remember what i need to…horses, this website, my brothers, drunk, not too drunk to have not survived, but to have survived, the police are still around, still arounf
awesome. but, i dropped the bottle, not my brother. i can still picture our party, in a circle, staring at the broken champagne bottle and lost bubbly as everyone around us reveled in the new year.
we lost more than the champagne that night. we lost our sober innocence. or drunken evil. or a bottle of mumms.
this is like one of those movie’s where the wrong guy takes the fall, and a poem is written about it. And then years later the guilty fellow — his brother no less! — steps forward, and the poem is changed to more accurately reflect the truth! -Cecil
i dont remember any of this..i dont because I was there…i wasnt,,,i remember what i need to…horses, this website, my brothers, drunk, not too drunk to have not survived, but to have survived, the police are still around, still arounf