Leave-taking

City buildings lean forward to listen,

but they cannot hear the whispered

nothings you tossed around the night

before--mi mariposa, mi pajarito, but

never simply beautiful. Taxis beep,

tourists oo and ah wildly, drills and

cranes echo through the Big Apple

brigade, as men with hard hats fix the

broken streams we swim along. Stepping

back for a moment, I search for caesura

in the mix of this chaotic composition

unfolding before us, while your body

spirals downward, drowning in a

cacophony of empty orders and

obligations. We split at 40th and 5th

Avenue. It’s 1400 on a Sunday afternoon.

I watch as you mindlessly glide through

rows of people, marching to the rhythm

you never stopped to hear while the

music runs through my veins, and

I flap my wings to the spontaneous

syncopation of the unplanned day.

Reviews

[M Breen]

Enjoyed the music and images and especially the uplifting optimistic acceptance in the last two lines. Thanks.