transporting me and you to New York
of the Belle Epoque, a city besieged
by our love so powerful that I,
a simple man, will be driven to stop time.
stretching the boundaries of contemporary literature,
this is a gift to a writer's affair,
filled with narrative high jinks and comic flights,
standing forth centrally as a moral discourse,
maybe an astonishing existential question mark.
I find myself nervous,
to a degree I don't recall in my past,
a good joke of defiance,
testing life's limits
in terms of death and transfiguration.
lost in Union Square, a lifetime ago,
it still smells the same,
and the music in my ears echos true
to my time travel theory,
but I just sit on a bench and wait.