At The Core

We called ourselves the big apple worms,
Guided by mouths agape for salted pretzels
In the concrete arboretum we had only seen
On our small television screens.

At that time, by luck and chance,
Photo opportunity with one of the stars
Who spoke softly among the anthem
Of transit buses and yellow cars
And wished us good health
As we pocketed our polaroids.

Not five minutes later, 92nd off Lexington,
Now face to face with a tall stranger
Who spoke in slang and bitterness
And in this unfortunate experience,
He forcefully withdrew my wallet
To better his circumstance
Which left me rotten and rocked
In my new world of romance.

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