"Avenue A"
by Brian Matthew Kessler
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Sitting out on Avenue A, |
Just passing through the day. |
Trying to make ends meet, |
Panning for food to eat. |
Sorrow and misery everywhere, |
But so too finding happiness here. |
Life would be going well, |
Except for cops making it hell. |
In the park I rest my head, |
Woken up, told "The bench ain't a bed." |
Going back to my stoop, |
I wait for the line to give out soup. |
The food isn't very great, |
But afterwards, least I can say "I ate." |
My friends hanging out in the park, |
Also found up on St. Mark's. |
Wondering what to do, |
I ask "What's new?" |
"Nothing," so they say, |
But still I enjoy the day. |
Later I beg for dinner, |
The light is getting thinner. |
A slice of pizza for my meal, |
but at a dollar a slice a good deal. |
Along comes the night crowd, |
Good money in not being too proud. |
Many snobs and pricks, |
Some deserving kicks. |
More important are the good ones, |
Those who make the evenings fun. |
About two hours after midnight, |
Almost soulless becomes the sight, |
No one left but squatters and bums on the street, |
Go round the corner, crackheads selling stuff really neat. |
Up comes the sun, |
A new days begun. |
Surrounded by my friends, |
I'll make it to the end . |