Dancing on Delancey

I want to find myself
dancing on Delancey; 
Without purpose. 
Without form. 
With life. 

There are songs escaping traffic,
seducing citizens at stoplights
drunk off starlights, 
ends of cigarettes
burning hotter than bar lights
that might be the only source of light
in some people's nights. 

A slice of heaven, 
dollar pizza and
a dream. 
A smudge of lipstick on
the mirror
where I told other girls
to stay beautiful
to be wiped clean the next morning
like someones's confidence. 

Ride the hum of the subway. 
The thick smell
of piss and Brooklyn
coax you to come closer. 
Come into this ship, 
carrying the wandering champions
of the midnight sky. 
The captain's asleep against
the closing doors. 
The X on his map
is buried deep in the sands of Coney Island, 
his eyelids patched together
from doses of
kisses from
these ladies named
Mary and Morgan. 

Morgan was a Captain too, 
but she found comfort in bottles
instead of subway cars. 

Let our eyes light up
like they do when
you experience love for the first time
as we stare into the disappearing lights
of New York City's skyline behind us. 
Phil and Lil have left
but that doesn't mean
their surrounding friends
are any less beautiful. 

The ship docks for a few seconds
before setting sail again, 
whispering 

“Goodnight.

Good morning.

Sleep tight."

The captain is still sound asleep
in his new favorite bunker. 
My rhythmless feet
are still dancing,
just with more purpose
more form,
less life. 

I want to find myself
tiptoeing down the empty streets
as Cortelyou holds my hand
and rustles in the
dark, peaceful breeze. 

The laundromat tucks me in
under its awning as it starts to drizzle. 
The sky is guiding me home. 

I've had many adventures. 
I’ve sailed seas and skies alike. 
I'll have many more
residences and jobs
and pointless crushes. 
There will be only one destination
where my dancing shoes
will always
be waiting for me.