(END OF THE LINE: MARK REILLY)
Prospect Park is on golden fire
through the tint of my Cadillac
in conveyance to Mark Reilly
on his birthday: what apocalypse
harbinges Ocean Avenue,
so cool & slick on this Saturday night:
the pointed roofs of Windsor Park
poke menacingly at the evening:
a police escort with "birthday boy"
written on its armored fender.
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