when i walk under scaffolding
i think of new york city:
persons passing under are new yorkers,
inside, i am again a new yorker,
and then i come out, and
the city is gone.

somedays, the air
will get that northeastern smell
and the wind will be just so,
and i picture myself perching
on a fire escape analyzing people,
in utter meditation.

the go-coffees taste so nice
with those specious sugar packets
the slices are large
& feed the poorman well

the yanks are on channel 11
and all is well with the capos
and the bodegas

the empire will light soon.