Deposit fifty cents in English

and you will see the Queen

of New York strip, pull back the latch,

take in the scene and I promise

that the eyes will widen

and the legs will turn to jelly

for behind the peep show here

in the greatest city on Earth,

for about a minute,

you will feel royalty,

you my English friend will understand

the true meaning of being

the King of Times Square.

 

The Peep show, vaguely understood,

randomly implicit, silently mistaken,

is revealed before my eyes

and it with a sense of guilt, shock

and discomfort, like seeing the old drunk

black man take his pal out

and spit in the drain just off Broadway,

or the Queen with diamond studs

and leather jacket arse, that I try

my best to look away, but the latch is held open

and English is told to understand

what New York, what America can be like

when the Peep show goes wrong,

when we look too deeply

into the soul

of a lover and find that

we cannot abide the way

they yawn, their tongue waggling

about quicker than a gossip

with nothing better to do

than slander the innocent,

full of rotting teeth

and ulcers that burst

on the side of the gums, the stench

enough to make us feel sick

and hide away from their infection.

 

The Queen of Times Square

flutters her eyelids and I see the eye powder

keg blue self implode and the spark

of humanity disappears

as she leans back on the battered

remains of a sofa,

stockings gleaming with invitation,

reflecting both my vision

and the neon lights so far from

home and the tales

I heard in the Adanac House.

The Queen of Times Square

needs translating, her words meaning fuck all,

misunderstood, mispriced, mistaken

for anguish, silent

in her moment of glory and just as the climax

reaches its end,

my eyes are pulled away

from the vision of a coronation

I had no intention of seeing again.

Well English, Carlos spoke

with gentle grin and firm paw

on my sagging shoulders,

shall we drink beer

or shall we find a duchess

in amongst the neon light, the faded appreciation

you now feel for my city,

your education, my friend,

has just begun.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016