We were looking at an old art deco building
In the city of our youth
Both of us stoned on some excellent reefer
When my friend said “that building is holy”
Soon as he said it it happened
I saw the Metropolitan Building
Floating above its own foundation
Backlit by the summer moon
Glowing with nimbus light
And for a few moments it was holy
It was everything we’d ever loved
The years of our poetic friendship
Our city its streets its river of time
They all belonged to us
Without a police cruiser in sight