Cave Dwellers

The actor was content in his East Village cold-water flat

Better known as “the Cave”

More comfortable than most

With a view of the air shaft.

Adjacent cave

Quiet until the aged die-hard old man

Decided to play his ancient Les Paul knock-off guitar

Yes…

These hole-in-the-wall abodes all had at least one resident spider

Always alert waiting for the next fly

Dumb enough to light upon the cigarette-smoke-clouded web

Mostly shrouded in the shadowed corner

Where reverie found peace

With the maze of woven thread

Contributing a special place of tempered patience

For each day’s dreaded sunrise

When upstairs the sound of bare feet

Slapped across carpet-less floor

Such a cave dweller she

This 3^rd floor Gypsy Astrologer

Setting up her day’s mumbo-jumbo charts

Anticipating the next potential dream-addict

To fork over the five-dollar intro fee

And hopefully be forever hooked

On his or her starry destiny

So often

The pre-dawn morning’s silence

Was broken with sobbing coming from the star room

Like a baby crying

In harmony with his own

Knowing well his destiny

Was not to be found through the celestial wonderment

But here among the other struggling artists

The cave dwellers of New York

And of course…

The resident spiders