Freedom Tower This city used to be Lit by torchlight Dusk has fallen Deep I am caught between Cohabitating realities And unsure which dream I get to keep They finished the Freedom Tower My uncle said “They should have rebuilt it the same.” On the avenues paper men make an indifferent show Of disintegrating in the rain Chorus: I was the toast of Greenwich Village For about two minutes, once Glory was the price of tuition I wrote a book about alcoholic doves It was an elevated position A better view to look down at us I was supposed to learn a lesson But I keep forgetting what it was The romanticists loathe These bright corners Because they preferred privacy While watching my friend die They bloviate about Complicity And drink holy water From each other’s pierced sides Such is life In the unfolding parable I chase money to treat Such deep resentment I stroll these angular Blocks alone Like an ink-less pen Scratching the pavement Chorus The future is a Too cold day in May With only graspable fantasy An antidote to the news We are fractured, we are ruled Their sparkling communal vision Is always due to be disabused I’ve reached the block With my favorite pub And aged a little Over a decade I learned too late Your finest expression of love Were all my delusions You so silently forgave Chorus Five rounds Of rum and coke And the Yankees Holding off the Reds I tell the taxi driver To drive me past the epilogue Because I never like knowing How the novel ends Oh, verticalized glass With our reflections unkept We slide off with the ease Of a great promise unmet And the cabbie doesn’t answer When I ask about the ducks At Central Park Maybe he read the book And just didn’t like that part