Dark blue serge/borders the windows that overlook White Harlem,/like dreams come true/same as motifs in magazines you’ve leafed through./Done then, step in;/as candy melts, flies settle./ Soon ,they figure out escapes from glass vessels. /Flies aren’t known for breathing under glass./Wisdom might turn out to be/ just the loss of youth./Vitality makes it’s departure./it was strong enough, but not exactly the same thing as wisdom./You should try what’s out that window out for size./Where came the flies./On my way uptown, on another rainy day, on a West Side bus from Hell’s Kitchen. /Song imbedded in my genes plays out in my mind./It was altered by a brand of downtown candy/once fed to a flock./But, look! There’s your old friend!/How we’ve grown! Yes, and now, it’s the right time to be/descendants from different family trees. -Are you sure?-Yes, I’m sure. Try hard to listen /to the singsong in my genes./Take a look out the windows at White Harlem/like dreams come true./same as motifs in magazines you’ve leafed through.