๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐ธ๐ฒ๐น๐ฒ๐๐ผ๐ป ๐ง๐ผ๐๐ป
๐ฃ๐บ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ฑ๐ฉ ๐๐ณ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฐ ๐๐ณ.
๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐๐ฐ๐ฆ ๐๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ค๐ต๐ป
If I were an alien and had just landed here,
had had no human contact,
held no human fear.
Would I experience the hollow quick dread,
coming on the open cold framework
of Flushing Meadowsโ Worldโs Fair dregs?
Would I walk on my way,
to out and beyond.
over L.I.E. concrete and Calvaryโs graveyard play?
โTowards the seaโ, โtowards the seaโ,
Iโd spit with forked tongue.
All soon to be at Coney Islandโs wooden fence rungs.
And Iโd see that great exoskeletonโCyclone his name saysโ
Lost mayhem and danger,
all wind-whipped and dead.
And Iโd think what a wonder, such marvels abound.
come all these skeletons,
to one small seaside town.