city editor

steel cable wire bridge,
in heaven’s reach, but not
a god
nor a newspaper editor,
nor was the city his,
yet he owned them in black and white
sent out bow—tied reporters, some, 
in dress and heels
both to snoop with half blind eyes,
to dig up dirt
dirt to be later used in a cemetery,
coffins in earth
bones lie still
with pencil and flip pad, they wrote 
about lives they broke
plaster—work in condemned buildings,
old painters forgotten
once a story in a by—line, blacked ink,
memories dried out
old newspapers to the homeless, keep 
somewhat warm
city editor had a heart affection for a 
fledgling female newshound
she played his emotions, climbed the
corporate ladder
she had no sympathy, her slender body 
made him weak in the knees
outside, slender concrete monuments 
rose from cement sidewalks
to form ladders to the clouds, to the
place upstairs
angular shadows formed, adept at hiding
disdained faces
simplified begging like poor children 
wanting some sleep
all walk with the masses, or get swept 
down storm drains 
rain water runs backwards down 
metal grates
she is now co-editor, entwined in his life
he leaves behind the mrs.
he leaves behind the kids
new consummated love, awning of
the bizarre
voluptuous vibrations wrapped up
his feelings good and tight
throw of the loaded dice
her sports writer boyfriend, same paper,
fingers crossed
in a small, steamy delicatessen, slips
one city editor a mickey 
he stumbles outside, pale colour, walks
in a soft, wet, lumpy manner
gets hit by a metered running, yellow cab
with nerve, adulteress wears black
she wears black heels
at his grave site
the deceased’s wife suspicious, murder?
paper is the fabric of an intricate city
as is bread and water
to black and white uniformed inmates
girlfriend, boyfriend now write on black
and white ink
prison publications
jilted wife now sits behind a city 
editor’s desk…
Copyright © 05/13/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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