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  EveryDay Media     
Date: Thu, 4 Aug 2005 12:00AM PDT)
From: Send an Instant Message "John French" <mosshead7@yahoo.com>
Subject: The St. Regis Hotel - New York
To: poetry@newyorker.com


The St. Regis Hotel - New York


Lit up like a jar full of

Lightening bugs

It's July


New York, New York

Is so alive

Eyes rolling, trains

Stretching along tracks -

Explosive lights, dimmed

Rooms - we're never alone


She had an elegant gaze

I felt her warm stare

She also had good

Confidence in her Halston dress

She must've been 55 to my 34

On my way to 35


The bartender knew

I'll have another vodka gimlet

Please. I had about five.


I was entertained by

Some people I didn't know.

Strangers talking for sport

Of a heroin dealer busted

Up stairs in one of the suites

With a confederate flag on the

Bed while meditating on top

With two .44 caliber pistols

Of Civil War era - antiques -

Six shooters w/ an eight-inch barrel


Apparently he was from New Orleans

And had a lucrative business in heroin

But because of greed he axed middlemen

Now in town to for the business himself

Too big of a fish to swim here

He was busted w/ his guns, heroin

The Confederate flag and his arrogance


This makes drunken rock stars look good


EveryDay Media - MyStrawHat.com

John A. Conte`  JR


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Poetry  By John Alan Conte`, Jr.
Copyright 2005
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or  transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or  otherwise, without prior written permission of John Alan Conte Jr.