@bronxgirlwithpictures #whoareyoureally

by Amy Soricelli

I see your pictures the coffee designs/ it is cool how you did that in the
space of your life/ your dog is nice -
I would not see your dog otherwise/your lost penny came back it's true/ the barn door you painted sky blue
we don't have barn doors here.

I could not set my life in a  box;
you planted plants in the planters
you painted the deep night air the stars bounce off the sides/
on the stairs made of clay
I could not see that any other way.

I have not gone Down Under you weave rugs/ you spy spies
in the sheep you tend the blank country skies-
it's the gritty Bronx blues I cup into my palm/ I snap it back let it go
you want more dirt red alarms/ painted city snap tags across the concrete
there would be no other way for you to see.

You have all boys down the rusty stairs/ in towns ending in full bubble round
my mouth gets caught in those flinty sounds -
is the air we share the same over there.
The stuff you sell the corner back down the alley/ your blackboard
signs and heady beer/ can't see the same sun from over here.

I smile your days and birthday hats/ you take yours off to all of mine in that
we share the nothing of everything fast/ flashes black then white
the mornings your day and mine is night.
But you would not know me before or then -
i doubt I would  know you if i saw you in the light/ or down my street
there would be no other way for us to meet.