crickets chirp
broken songs
into willow trees
the summer night
breeze
stirs the neighborhood
with hints of autumn
aroma
the moon smiles
orange tinted luminescence
creating silhouettes of insects
along the Boston city skyline
I hitch a ride with a dragonfly
witness
Prudential dreams
cast away on Charles River ferries
Storrow roads from State street cobble stones
melting into pots of
Harvard soliloquies
I travel by green bees to the Heights of my religion
ride down
Beacon
of hope to the place that my Papi resides
homerun ball blasted to the South End
bouncing
two minutes over to South Boston
hiding gangsters and castles alike
canoli dreams filled with rich cream
on the North End streets
my dragonfly ride ends when captured by a frog
Boston Common gnomes
sitting as still as stone
hopping us to Downtown Crossing
leaving nothing but the crickets
and their broken song
