Boston by Cameron Dale

I begin to know the streets,
Spy tunnels
And their depth.
The pavement where homeless men decry passerby
For lonely cigarettes.

This is the place that borders lose,
But where love has kept some managed fortitude.

Beset by a subway’s grumble,
Caressed by a mortal fuse,
This cobblestone snarl unhinged from myth,
This is where
I test the water’s hue.