Gone are you
It has been three years
Since you told the stories
Of Mid-Century New York
Stripping the old-world uniform
You landed on Ellis Island
In yr blue sweater
And a beige poodle skirt
Enter an automat
You were frightened of
New World techology
These stories filled my dreams
Of that city
They were my bedtime stories
That made me sleep
Next to you
The city isn't what it was