Brooklyn, October

And Whitman’s ample hills await
The Hasid’s steps and Hipster’s gait
In black and white and gray and brown
They build them up, and tear them down

Where brownstone and Cor-Ten collide
And form and function, side by side
Conspire to help the borough stand
Through crystal, oak, and ampersand

The promised harmony evolves
And minor 7th chord resolves
To gentrify each native out
They sing and scream and laugh and shout

That “we are living in the now!”
For Olmsted’s Prospect was a vow
To bolster Breukelen’s ideal mien
From Brighton Beach to high Fort Greene

But cobblestones and asphalt stand
In rigid rivers on demand
To serve up coffee, liquid kale
Fermented tea and ginger ale

A million backlit apples glow
In lofts and bars, row after row
To nourish the creative class
And burn them out as decades pass


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