Thursday, November 18, 2010
Murky mist on West 53rd
Midtown grit awaiting glamour
Black car approached, paparazzi stirred
Swing up camera like a hammer.
High heel shadow from blinding flash
Frozen image of bold-face name
While on the ledge, forgotten trash
Watched the machinery of fame.
Though now you be the favored swan,
It seemed to say, though mute and dumb,
They'll chew you til your flavor's gone
And then discard you just like gum.