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Wintering in Coney Island
Wintering in Coney Island.
During the winter you’d go to Coney Island.
Would always find
someone holding something,
between Launa Park and the Boardwalk.
It was the worst time of the year.
Hands swelled so, you couldn’t hold anything,
(that is, if you had anything to hold), or button
your jacket, to keep that ocean wind
from blowing right through you,
as you walked down winding alleyways
stepping over drunks & other misfits,
you were no more then a shot away from
becoming yourself,
with prostitute’s propositioning you from doorways.
Offering their services
at discounted winter rates,
& like a homing pigeon,
trying to zeroing in
on that exact spot you were last time,
some dude in a red baseball cap, 8 ball leather jacket
sporting a goatee & diamond studded front tooth,
approached you with some of the best shit,
you tasted since the summer.
When you swore.
This never was gonna happen again.
Cause unlike like those other junkies!
I had it under control, & was gonna get myself clean
before Thanksgiving came around again.
