February 19, 2012

He had a young man’s body and a young man’s hair but a face

Painted like a clown’s he crooned Heeeeeeyyy when he

Leapt in front of me on the street and I yelped aloud and knocked into

The fence behind me I’m not used to boys who wear makeup much less

Boys fixed up like the stuff of bad dreams. On the train two kids sold candy

At a pretty good price and a man showed off his dog named Choo-choo to

All the insouciant ladies.

 

The next day I took a hike through Harriman State Park because I tire of St. Marks

Place it’s a fun house without the fun I prefer log bridges to the Brooklyn Bridge,

In New York I take the A the wrong way and end up at the Jay Street MetroTech

But here trail markers on the trees dictate my path through jagged rocks

And drying grass so I’m not lost even though February thinks it’s March and the

Marsh sags in your absence and the few who are desperate enough to trek through

These hills call out incomprehensibly to travellers gone astray.

 

And where trail markers color the trees no traveller goes astray except by choice

No traveller goes astray unless a man made up like a circus clown jumps out

From midtown’s corporate shadows and blocks her way, unless she has a chronic

Problem where she can’t tell whether the people in the distance are walking

Towards her or away from her and either way it’s a horror show.

 

I choose quiet when you can’t take my breath away

And leave the rest for later but then I imagine your sleek

Arms empty when they should be fast around me like a seabird

For the sea I call out for the city

Incomprehensibly

Through the hills.