Meatpacking District, New York
Walk through this dead town
for years to come,
the ghosts are here haunting
the natives,
familial ghosts that
fuss and bother –
but I have my own
personal ghost
from a room
on 47th Street
more spirit-like for
being bulldozed
a fly in the web
of memory
spun by the spider
of frustration
I struggle, I sit
tight and I catch
through cataracts
glimpses of sunlight
something to do with
the waterfront:
a few blocks of
cobblestone markets
where old ferns drape
the unused trestle
and graffiti is scrawled
from times past