Midtown Antoinette

When you read this letter

I will be gone. Don’t be sad

And follow my last will.

At sunset, when a purple ball of fire

Is ready to kindle Midtown

Go to the corner of 5th Avenue and 55th street

Take the elevator to the top floor

Order a drink and on the balcony

Slowly scatter my ashes on the yellow bees.

That will be the flying casket 

Of Midtown Antoinette.

 

I spent all my money

On gambling and clothing

With cards and horse-betting

Shoes, pomade and rouge.

I had breakfast with caviar Beluga

Nude in fur at the Met opera.

I slept under the beautiful stars

On the Verrazano bridge

I have known intimately 

All the Wall Street bulls,

I have painted the Liberty

on the ferry of a foggy dream

I have walked up and down

East and West, kissing the winter wind

In the long endless tunnel of Broadway 

My heels were cracked

My hands gelid but my life was beating fast.

 

I am Midtown Antoinette

I don’t take things seriously

I won’t be part of History

My soul is lost somewhere in Hell’s kitchen.

 

When you read this letter. I will be gone

Don’t be sad but follow my last will.

Scatter my ashes on the yellow bees

That will be the flying casket of midtown Antoinette.

© 2015