Organ meditation, 4pm.
I'm all over the place,
but my feet are here
in these ugly Hokas.
I am writing poetry
in the pew,
the hymnal of 1982.
I peed at Grey Dog on University
and got a coffee with half-and-half
and a splash of time travel.
In a week from Tuesday,
I will be sliced open again,
but right now I am here.
Under the stones and stained glass,
trying to talk to Hashem,
who goes by a different name in this place.
But it is the same in my case,
and I am hungry and my phone is on 4%,
but this is time well spent.
After praying,
I walk by Union Square,
and remember old lives.
Gratitude, infinite.
Nostalgia, invaluable.