Walking it away
is what I say
I am doing,
heels clicking
the cobblestoned catechism
under sister moon's
wide-eyed
shining.
Question: What's the difference?
Answer: Nothing to it
but beginning.
Now ended.
Question: What now?
Answer: First, walk. Then
begin again.
Other lovers litter
every other corner
embracing
entreating
entangled.
I know envy.
A high, sweet longing
stings my eyerims
like too much lilac
carried on the breeze.
The grid dissolves into
an improbable intersection.
West 12th and West 4th
suddenly collide.
I should have learnt
these streets by now--
the histories of Jane,
Charles, Horatio,
which Bank it was
they meant to mark and why,
how 4 and 12 could
skip so much to
come together.
Transported by
the architecture,
I was always at home
without ever knowing
where I was,
exactly.
Now, I am lost
in the original city.
I think I hear you laugh.
A streetlamp casts
a shadow beside me
that looks to be yours
and is not
and moves on.
