after Lawrence Ferlinghetti

New Year’s Eve, waiting for the ball to drop
     again. Waiting for the dancing
to begin, the band to wail like it has no choice.
     It has no choice.

I’m waiting for the woman in red shoes to move
     her sinuous self my way
and smile. I’m waiting for the stores to close.
     I’m waiting for America
to grow weary of money and move on. I’m waiting
     for one of the football guys... Read more