The alley behind the closed cinema is magic
When the rain from last night is dripping off the walls and little cups float in the puddles left behind
And you're rushing up ahead of me singing
Threatening to drink whatever is left
Poets make a ceremony out of walking in the woods
Where the sun sprinkles through the holes in the leaves and the echoing quiet maw whirls in your ears
But I've seen poetry in chainlinked corners smothered in discarded dishware
Crawling up out of the few green things that remain
Insisting on life and playfulness
I lectured about Guy Debord before I knew him
Willed myself a Situationist before ever going on a Derive
Locked into patterns and sidewalks
Scavenger hunts and maps
Scratching at the edges of philosophy while participating in nothing
But you knew the adventure before I could define it
Saw the ecstasy behind dirty stained concrete
Embraced the immense beauty of the day
and said 'come along
We can sing loud enough to shake the bricks
Because the city belongs to us as well'
Can Debord be understood through a Virgil?
Is it proper to fall in love with purgatory and
dip my heart in the inferno?
Guided by you
Under sunrise skies
I learned to play the morning game
And feel the beach beneath the street