Times Squared

Angel light haloes flourescent crown:
Tourists, actors, models,
Reflecting into glass sky,
Cubicles stacked hundreds high,
Faces of people glow with the
Broadway Fashion Politic Billboards
Mr. Amendinijad has his own sign
(somebody's got their hand in some pie)
Streams of feet walk E line open doors
Watch the gap
Hiss the chunk of the wheels starting to
Roll, squeal of the brakes
And the some walk awkward silence,
Flourescent space between el Puertorriqueño
durmiendo en el metro sin familia, porque hay leyes y
the physician from Mumbai, the Nigerian lady with dress
and matching headpiece, tourists from Tulsa,
and dishwashers, the children of UN dignitaries,
Crips and Manhattan businessmen.
The end of the line.

Above ground on dirt scorched
Skeleton cranes seed, water, weed,
A rebarred and scarred landscape
Tarred earth, do you still remember grass and
How those wild locks felt shaking on your skin?
I wonder when they'll bomb the place again,
Money speaks louder than word,
Such deliberate posturing, securities,
Annuities, dividends, scowling building faces
turned up in a neon grin, a silver sheen new heights of hubris:
A memorial in the making; a waving American flag;
An uneasy peace.