Friday, December 19, 2014

an ounce of twenty-twenty vision

Walking away, I think:
How do I--
Then,
I am interrupted
By me,
Endless Me,
Stretching over the sidewalk,
Curling around wrought-iron railings,
Filling up the City landscape,
From Battery Park to 180th Street.
There I am.
A lot of Me.
Vague,
Inescapable,
Spilling out
Of every empty crevice,
That I hope
Will contain
A You.

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