jdx

Would-be messages from the East Village, in 140 characters or less.

Welcome To The East Village: This is Your Demented Realtor Speaking

Here is your sofa. Studio prices are available on the
Web, or via consultation with your Personal Real Estate
Provider. Please &#8212 sit down

& be comfortable. That is garbage on the street, & you
might want to avoid that rat. Sadly, rentals are a bit high
right… Look, don’t frown,

we’ve got planeloads of Japanese heading this way very
keen to escape the recent ‘troubles,’ if you see what I
mean, you underfunded clown,

& we do need to impress upon them that this is NY, NY,
with lots of people just like them, that it’s dynamic,
diverse, & a helluva town.

(It’d be one thing if you were a minority, but you’re not
a minority, you’re not even drunk, so get off that sofa or
the cops come round)

Floral Discipline On E. 14th St.

Sunlight neglects them, rain & wind confuse them, yet
the blossoms blossom anyway. So white against the gray
of another gusty, gritty day

A Song for Mayor Bloomberg

If only the parks were quiet, as well as smoke-free. If
only the parks were green & quiet & not smoke-free. If
only the parks were quiet

Ninth Street Barber Shop

They never stop, those Russians. All day long it’s chop
chop chop. Razors mirrors eyes cologne. They get the
blade, you get the throne

Even Blanker

I met a man named Richard Hell. He belonged to the
‘Blank Generation.’ To what did I belong?
I considered the question. Nothing rang a bell

Street Professors

Unshaven, unemployed, they watch slink by girls who
do not so much as glance their way — then grade their
asses. Generally, grades are high

In Church

Oak doors shut. The raucous street recedes. Inside, all
the peace an agnostic needs. Candles, incense, prayer —
enough to linger there

until a Voice in the head begins to shout, “This isn’t a
friggin’ Day Spa, lout, this is THE HOUSE OF GOD.
Either fall to your knees and pray

or exit on Fourteenth Street and GET OUT”