My head is in New York today, stuck in that brasserie on Park
the sun up and out
and cold a little wind, but the promise of something better
The light down and through avenues
and the store where, years ago, I bought a mattress pad
to comfort myself;
Vendors selling plants below the Union Virgin and etched pictures and chaos
and I can feel my coat, the one I’m wearing knowing it will get better,
knowing that later I’ll have the afternoon between the buildings
and feel the sun
4-21-08