I like the newsprint tint

I like the newsprint tint
of the nine-story projects, far out
in those shitty, last-stop suburbs
those butt-fucked, bedroom regions

except for three over-friendly alcoholics—
chronic school skippers, life cutters—
everyone’s following the track marks
they’re in the eye of the needle

the nine-story apartments,
celebrated by local rappers, rockers
are like thin, vintage dresses
worn by manic-depressives

daytime it’s empty here; everyone works
but look, birthday balloons
bowling balls in concrete lanes
youthful celebrations’ remains 

yes, we did away with architectural fun
back when we pretended to be in love
then the whoring started, no surprise
the drinking, too, it took all kinds

physalis blooms here til wintertime
orange Chinese lanterns glowing
growing orange orbs flattened 
by childish sledding, snowstorms

the elevator goes up and down
the bus pulls up to the stop again
I’m like you, sleepy suburb
a gaping yawn

I buy briny pistachios
from a quiet girl at a kiosk
I look up through nine stories of mist
I like the nine-story apartments