Amy Soricelli

Houston and Avenue D

Kitty hangs out by the organic juice bar with her
leather jacket and pink hair.
Her father dropped her off two years ago for a concert,
and she fell in love with the left side of the street.
She did coke off a glass table at this girls apartment
who kept talking about Andy Warhol though she couldn’t
name one thing he did.
Kitty could be sad but she’s not.
She’s too peppermint gum and canopy bed.
Her mother went looking for her one week last April.
Kitty spotted her through her window; a ghost in Burberry
raincoat pointing at a flyer and smoking a Salem.
She could have called out.
'Hey mom. Up here'.
But she didn’t.