lines
of morning
corner entrance –
café
grumpy, then
el beit back
patio,
danielle

summer
somehow
though found
a new
(expensive)
sweater, sighing
this weather’s months
away still but
the colour the way
it’s woven (!) laughing
she says –
“it’s okay it’s
a good one it’s
your new york
sweater.”

scented
sunscreen,
i am walking
like i’ve lived
here for years past
stoops, people
strewn,
a casualness
pretending
i could know them
past potted
begonias
assorted herbs past
delis and diners
little italy
walking

in a dress, my
hair turned
over
in a bun, we
with sarah
in squares –
times, herald
one of those
tiny tables
middle
of the street
her accent
taking me there
together
reminiscent our
english village
and waitressing –
what that was
like and has anyone
heard from aude
(?)

expressways
and i think of
brooklyn queens,
an album i confess
i never listened to.
jacob riis beach
is not as nice
as fort tilden,
i hear
sunburn, rosy
back swimming
in the pacific
in a dress.
ocean thinking
actually
wanting to find
seaglass, pale
those pieces how
gentle
they’ve turned
back home
on north henry –
milkshakes
and aloe,
suntired napping.
then quickly
on the bike down driggs
down twelfth down
kent
avenue, and

there’s a tree
in mccarren park
one i’m beneath
and come back
to a tree it
means something
this one,
to me.