With you, my feet

Copulate the orifices

Of a New York City soul

Timbs – you are the roughneck

I imagined my manhood projecting

You are the accessory to the murder

Of crows who guide me down this terrain

I would have the mortician told on my will

To have me be buried with you on my feet

Making it known that

I am the deadass beatnik

Equal distribution of

Ferlinghetti and

Fab 5 Freddy

I will tectonically shift

your worlds on

the si we dewalks

of Second Avenue

I will submerge into extroversion

Because you work for many situations

I would dress you up

With my undying love

For your stature

Never a style

put out

to pasture

Audiences would pay

Big bucks to rock you

You are the structure of leather

Luxury mixed with rugged regalia

Especially while walking

In the purple rain with

You kissing the puddles

-Jacob R. Moses