Tag Archives: massachusetts avenue

Freshmen Weekend

The crisp, pre-autumnal
scent of perfume, vomit
and underage drinking
wafts through the air
on Huntington Avenue.

Wherefore art thou pants,
sweet maiden? Why dost
thou mate lie incontinent
along the gutters of the bridge
on Massachusetts Avenue?

Cellphone screams, the
clumsy click and clack of
stilettos slice the stillness
of the early morning light
on Commonwealth Avenue.

While I nestle softly in
my bed off Centre Street.


The Manic Mirror Maid of Massachusetts Avenue

Mirror, mirror, in your hand:
(one reflection if by land)
tell me, of the two you see,
who is fairest — you, or me?

Is there some thing you hope to spy,
echoed in your own two eyes?
What is it that you pray to find
in those of us who walk behind

you — enemies, or maybe friends?
The prospect of your madness’ end?
Three blocks walked in every way,
along the same cow path each day,

both ways looked when crossing streets —
the fate you left as fate you meet.
But sallow glass won’t keep you safe
from that which lies beyond your face.