inside the vein

we were Trolley Dodgers when we met,
just kids, blue collars on factory necks
Brooklyn Dago
hearts on sleeves, sleeves rolled up.

We took down the navy in our first year
together,
the pinstripe empire crumbling
the same week he moved in. We were
don’t ask don’t tell with everyone from the old neighborhood,
but the way mama looked at me—

We loved Jackie R, but we never talked about why.

We got hassled every
yellow moon/rent due but
this was the fifties, and
blue laws played louder than
Behind Closed Doors, which
is still 20 years too late.
“you queers better get out if you know what’s good for you!”
So ’57
comes for everyone

a Kind of Blue
Train, and Period,
while our team skyed to L.A.la land. Even then you
could trace the
varicose tracks to the west,
to San Francisco,
where there’s an excess of blue-blooded hearts.

But we left you a note, Brooklyn, a
muted third with a little
twang: Sorry Lucille,
you ain’t coming where we goin’:
Trolleyhaven—Tony Bennett,
Blue Velvet.