I know,

I said it was over

And yet here I am.

I do that with men sometimes.

The painful dragging on of something doomed.

New York isn’t done with me,

That’s all.

I wanted to see it from above.

On the deck my rolleicord

Seduced the security guard.

-Never seen anything like that.

Can you get FLIM for that? 

Didn’t know you could!

Meanwhile a man

Jumps over the glass.

The guard starts to run

And yell.

The man just sits there.

His feet hanging

seventy floors in the air,

A spiderman backpack,

An American flag on his face.

This is the end

My only friend, the end.


Maybe. After all I'm leaving New York on Saturday. New city, new life, new blog?
We'll see. I might turn 100 words into a book. With illustrations and such. Thanks for reading.

I claim a car

Before the train stops.

I get attached to a particular seat

The one beside the woman

With orange sandals

Reading a crumpled New Yorker.

The policeman on the Myrtle Avenue platform

Walks towards me smiling.

-Nice camera,

Almost as old

As that building you’re photographing.

I smile back.

I can smell the Fall

Today.

I’ve been sleeping better

At night.

It’s a graceful dance

For a Woman

A Fan

And a Top Sheet.

Regardless of the menstrual cramps

(quite puzzling on a third day)

And the headaches

And the mild grief

This life

Qualifies

As fine.

I just used the last drop

Of my ecological laundry detergent.

I bought it in January

When I moved to New York.

My head wants to explode

Today.

I might let it.

You always leave after lunch

On those rare Mondays I get to see you

When you drive here for her.

You want to avoid rush hour,

All those people with real jobs.

You also don’t want 

To start missing

The old life.

I know this

Because I miss it too.

You gave me quarters,

I was out of American coins.

It’s brutal what we do

Without meaning to.

My favorite roommate left

For good

A moment ago.

Since I came back from Italy

I feel oh so sentimental.

At the Met

People think

They’re supposed to look at art

But all they’re thinking about

Is the Petrie Court Café.

I could use a cup of tea

Myself.

And a man.

Someone who’ll sip oolong

And look at me with love

While he firmly holds my hand.

It’s normal to feel lonely

Here.

Thank goddess

I got over Him.

Now I promise I’ll behave

No silly crushes

Or shallow breathing.

Up at seven

Drink more water

Apply for Medicaid.

I will love everyone

If just for a second.

On the crowded bus in Rome

I observe my compatriots.

A woman with a big yellow skirt

Is holding a giant panino like a fan.

A guy hops in

He’s carrying a fat leather bag

Wearing headphones

And a pearl necklace.

I decide to stare at him.

Remind me, why do I hate this city?

So much beauty everywhere

And nights are infinitely nicer,

I sleep like a baby,

The song of cicadas

In my ears.

Vacanze Romane are one thing

Growing up here another

But that might just suck

Anywhere.