Domino Pieces (part one)

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On the corner of Troy and Eastern Parkway,

There’s a hive of Haitians.

Swarming an old wooden table

Skeleted with Domino Pieces

Summoning loud conversations about…

Who knows?
It attracts me Home
It attracts me Home.

Where these old tables are glistened to look new

With skinny metal legs twisting

“I need to pee”

Yet, it still withstood the exhilarating slams

Of Domino Pieces.

Reverberating magnificent melody behind mountains;

An echo that seizes attention,

Ask for respect–your temptation.
It reminds me of Home

One Swipe

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Legend has it:

When a New Yorker’s phone dies

And they seek to find

“My way back home”,
They kiss their ears with the sun-kissed pavement;

Concrete sidewalk,

And let their soul connect to the undergrounds:

The rushing, swivel

Tunnel.

Fetch for distinct sounds of 

Rumbling; Tumbling

Awakening,

Belonging; Life.
Follow all that noise–

A screetch known to be cultural

To the nearest train station.
In NYC, every train points Home.

“Don’t Talk to Strangers”

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They told us shades are cool,

But now. we can’t see
They told us we’re too loud,

But now. we can’t speak
They told us these bracelets are a gift,

But now. we’re not free
They told us they wouldn’t shoot,

But now. we’re hashtags
They told us they panicked,

But now. we can’t breathe
Copyright Β© 2017 by, Charles Joseph Augustin