Nicholas DaSilva

Awake, The City

From 1st AV. To 158th
The homeless dream of food they never eat.
But seen,
Eatin by people on a Broadway scene.
Kids run around,
Moms yell “you’re late.”
The old man cusses at them from a plain black crate.
City cabs honkin’,
Stores unlockin’,
The radio is still rockin’
And yet people don’t stop shopping
And yet if there’s time to cross they aren’t stopping.
Italian sausages are on the grill,
Popcorn is still poppin’.
The smell takes you to a million places,
Reminds you of different faces.
The case is,
That those same people feel the swift breeze,
Cool air,
Through the rowdy streets in Manhattan,
Where yellow cabs are everywhere.
Time comes and people evaporate.
Night comes,
And the homeless are still askin’ for crumbs.
Everyone is gonna share,
The lights that are on in
Time Square.


Copyright 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.