Here comes poetry

Here comes poetry
She said in a sultry voice
To a friend with glossy lipstick
Dressed in black sheen
Thin gold bangles
About half a dozen on each of their left arms
Between the pair of them
Nothing but a whisper
Here comes poetry
She says
In front of them
Two bar napkins
Two glasses of single malt
Some neon lit bar disaster
A bartender a few comfortable steps away
Dressed appropriately: vest, bow tie, white pressed shirt rolled up at the arms
Carefully monitoring the cubes
The levels of scotch
But not much else
Peripherally attentive
I hear that, the friend says
Placing special emphasis on 'that'
Both of their heads turned toward the door
Here. Comes. Poetry.

Here comes poetry, he says
From atop a steel beam
In midtown Manhattan
The busy environment
Keeping his loudest voice private
Everyday
Below
A scene so enticing
He takes a break
From worrying about placement
Exact connections
Just for a second
To take in the view
Here comes poetry! he sometimes yells
Seeing what the sidewalk below has to offer
What! screams the foreman
Sliding back one of his ear phones
A confused look on his face
I said, There's no more trees!
I know, he says
They yanked them yesterday
Here comes a beam
He says
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5.14.13