From Harlem to 42nd
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/6/01 7:05:50 PM

The daylight was smashing
Through my gunmetal frames
I could see the teeming walkers
Strolling like panthers
Beside the row of rolling tires.

At each quick coming intersection.
I would have to stop and burn minutes away
From the air conditioning system
Of my curvy blackberry sedan.

The cigarette smoke filled the closed car
While I fidgeted with the yohimbe
In it's little gold packet
Wondering exactly what to do with it.

There was probably a warrant out
In that little truckstop region
Where I'd bought the sandwich.
Because I'd accidentally pocketed the gold.

I was among the pimps and hustlers of ninety seventh
In their "For Us By Us" Jersey's and chains
They crossed every which way
In front of and behind my bumpers.

While baby-mamas drove carriages
Along the smooth walks of modern harlem.
I felt no panic in the daylight
Of a May Parade.

Toward Seventieth
I could start to make out the businesses
And the street began to tighten
The pace of all the traffic quickened one step at a time.

As if each press of the break pedal
Increased the speed incrementally
I seriously noticed the weaving cabs
Bright yellow with their tank-like grills.

It finally broke my nervous system
At around fiftieth when I saw
The blinking clock
Trussed to a twenty story building

Flashing 3:16.
For God so loved the universe
That he brought me to it's apex...

And I rode to 42nd
And swung off left
To look for parking
The ramps were available
But for what I had to give
There was no room to slow down.

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