In Bryant Park sun-wane, light fractured 

against dappled leaves as though it shone 

between train cars, imitating the 

glint of your eyes…fierce as November winds. 

 

I heard the din of city chimings 

in the brief spell and exit of words, 

your words, hurried and caffeinated –

words tuned to sirens and my soaring mind. 

 

You’ve a premium on all my words, 

shares in my portfolio of thought, 

leaving the intangibles to my pen; 

such was the cost of passing Time Warner. 

 

In Central Park I surveyed the moon 

shining slanted between those twin spires,

my eyes – wells — watching the horses trot

with the approach of morning, our embrace.

 

On a borrowed couch, that same dull ache, 

reminiscent of the vacant hum 

of streetlights, the spinning up of leaves, 

the whir of my bag’s zipper on the bus. 

 

I’ve since retreated to strange corners,

 retracing my loaned palms, exhaling 

bated breath with averted eyes; I 

pled to angels on library murals. 

 

As I walked between worlds, you were

the line on which I balanced. Below, a 

mess of concrete and steel to be made

sense of…not least your civilizing force.