Ken Cormier
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City of limitless joy, city where my anger treads,
loose-lipped and horse-hipped Albany,
a modicum of hair, a trench-mouthed, finger-snapping
vision of gang fights in Albany, cheapskate
metaphors, debilitating back sores, accompanists sniffing ether,
completely stiffened, camped out in socks and underwear,
these first explorers, these several men
making their perilous journey so that someday Albany will abound,
this song is for you, Albany,
impressive Albany of the Old West,
stamped in oblivion, fictitious Albany,
Albany of my discontent,
thriving backwards Albany,
rinse-soaked Albany,
quietly rummaging through Albany,
Albany proper,
rancorous, deranged, ill-smelling Albany hung out
in rectories, worshiping false gods in Albany,
complying with draconian rules in Albany , irritating old sores,
cold sores in Albany, hopping from bar to bar, suffering
backbone, replete with nonsense, keepsake Albany, snow globe Albany,
oft forgotten, never forgiven,
my dear old Albany.