New Haven, Connecticut (Circa 2012):

A freshly brewed cup of coffee
     slightly organic, slightly not;

An awkward pre-pubescent,
     gangly and pimpled faced,
     seeking its own identity under
     the eye of The Old Parent;

An unstirred batter of Gothic charm
     and modern-day chic;

Suits and ties and jeans and t-shirts
     cars and bikes and buses,
     trains and shuttles;

A clash of old hierarchy and new-age liberalism;

A slightly-sharp jazz quintet still finding its melodic line;

A briary bird’s nest, nestled betwixt New York and Boston;

A new Neapolitan scoop of multiculturalism;

A diverse delicatessen;

A half-penned, unopened book;

An unfinished nook;

A ...

(to be continued)