The Moon And New York Poem

We met every day
in the same place
we shared poems, cigarettes
and sometimes an adventure novel.
We threw small stones
from the bridge where the workers
from the glass factory took their lunch.
I told her that the earth was round
my aunt a witch and the moon a piece of copper.
That one day I would go to New York,
the city where outlandish things happen all the time
where vagabond cats
sleep under the automobiles
where there are a million beggars
a million lights
a million diamonds . . .
New York where it takes ants
centuries to climb the Empire State building
and where the blacks stroll around Harlem
wearing gaudy clothes
selling shoe polish in summer
I would go from restaurant to restaurant
until I found a small sign:
“Boy wanted to wash dishes.
No college degree required.”
Sometimes I would eat a sandwich
I would pick apples in California
I would think about her riding on the el
and I would buy her a dress like a neon light . . .
she was about to kiss me
when the factory whistle blew.