for want of what is real i have decided to live what we call .life. without the aid of a countefeit currency/i won't entertain the masks/nor will i wear them/because what i am, is what i can only be/and though i haven't found that yet/i'll get cha babe/and we'll skip along bridges/and sleep under a radiant cosmos/watching pidgeons on the fire escape/and yelling down the city from the top most floor/raining these words upon the streets/while the rest look up in perplexion/squint in the sun/and walk on, under umbrellas.
pavements are for the safe. but i tread upon the edge.
we'll toss coins to the street muscians, because on the streets, they were born; we'll ride elevators to the very heights and amuse at the smaller the people become, down, down down below.