times square blues

you miss the old times
square. the neon
piercing
signs shaking
the sky from it's darkness.
the hard
eyed women
with legs out, and lips
as shiny as candy apples.
pickpockets and
cops, shoulder to
shoulder, the staggering
smells
of what was eaten
and left behind
blending in with
roasted chestnuts.
a drink, a sandwich,
a fortune teller
one step away.
taxis careening from
curb to curb
their doors flying
open to take you anyplace
on the island,
or beyond. it was before
disney got a hold
of it, before
espn did too, and before
the singing cowboy
in his underwear
strummed his guitar.
they would have beaten
him with it,
back then, back when,
and left him
in an alley.