after all,
there is so much concrete
cover the earth,
and an owl floating
in a stairwell
over there is watching me,
so I leave evidence of myself
in the form of the Diet Dr. Pepper
I had on my walk.
the piano night keys off
and a gorgeous comic talks to me
about Brooklyn butt stuff,
as I repair to wait
in an art gallery,
pretending to drink wine,
faking it until I take off.
walking alone
I catch my claim
in the reflection of a window
and wonder who is on the other side
wondering who I am,
and we both don't see.
duck teacher ropes,
gutter stumbles and a cab
uptown to where I will
watch tv and wear boxers
before eating leftovers
and recycle to bed.