White Condo Fog

An April overcast overwhelms
A white luxury condo
O’er
Jay Street Brooklyn
Obscuring the upper floors
Earth warm
Sky cold
My fingers chilled
Not by Winter
But by the damp of Spring.
The new season
One month in
My joints ache in the damp
Old
Some of me
My mind 15

1967
Ruby Tuesday
The South Shore
Wollaston Beach
The Quincy Quarries
The Surf Nantasket
The Mattapan Oriental
Making out with Hyde Park girls
In the dark of the balcony
My fingers warm.
I write of my youth
My fingers
Manulyxic
Tripping over consonents
My fingers
Fumbling with a bra
In the balcony of the Mattapan Oriental
Fifteen

Forever
Young
With a white fog
Without gloom
For me
Alive.
As are the Rolling Stones

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