i tried calling
you didn’t pick up

where have you gone to, America?
i can’t find you under my bed or in my closet with the other monsters
you seem to be everywhere all at once like you’re imitating God, but maybe you’re just photocopying yourself until the ink turns to white like your flag on the moon
where have you gone to America?
when I go down on you, you never return the favor

where have you gone to, America?
your model homes are empty
your desks in your schools are empty
your teachers are just praying for tenure
where have you gone to, America?
are you in Central Park with those cast to the corners?
are you in Brooklyn with the rappers who reside in check out counter headphones?

the Dodgers are in Los Angeles now
the Lakers are in Los Angeles now
how come she always gets whatever she wants?
where have you gone to, America?
your youngest daughter still needs you

where have you gone to, America?
your unwrapped gifts are stacking up under the Xmas tree
your churches have walls to expand for the holiday rush

where have you gone to, America?
you left the groceries out on the table
you left your poor friends out on your San Francisco doorstep
you left your children at school with a gun
and you want to blame the trigger for the finger that pulled it

you want the television to babysit us
while you go out drinking with strange men

i tried leaving you this message, America
but your mailbox was full




new york, i want you so badly
i’ve never wanted anyone this bad
you’re dancing around in my dreams at night
you’re running your ghost hands up and down my spine
when i close my eyes i see you
i taste the smoke of brooklyn on my tongue
your legs hanging out of your t-shirt
as we lay on your bed in my mind
you traipse about the high rise apartment
like a cat that stalks the room
you’re everything i’ve ever wanted
your words are all surreal
mostly because i can’t believe you said them
when we made love
it would be as raw as lenny bruce
we would burn like buildings
it would taste like late night coffee and cigarettes
we’d sing like it was raining
and we were drunk and high
on life and laughing on park benches
and loving each other
and we dance on the rooftops
above us the stars in the ceiling
below us the stars in the floor
i would have you right then and there
hundreds of feet above the concrete
god, i have to have you
i have to run your hair through my fingers
i have to grow old as you grow older
i have to die in the arms of the city that was meant to have me
i have to die with you