the only things I remember about
New York City
in the summer
are the fire escapes
and how the people go
out on the fire escapes
in the evening
when the sun is setting
on the other side
of the buildings
and some stretch out
and sleep there
while others sit quietly
where it's cool.

and on many
of the window sills
sit pots of geraniums or
planters filled with red
geraniums
and the half-dressed people
rest there
on the fire escapes
and there are
red geraniums
everywhere.

this is really
something to see rather
than to talk about.

it's like a great colorful
and surprising painting
not hanging anywhere
else.

She stands there in the dappled light thrown by the suns last dying rays
A doe in her full glory there at end of day
Oh how I do love so much the setting of the sun
A time to sit and wonder as the day is done
See there the stripes of silver on that grey and shaggy head
Tis so rare and beautiful to see the badger leave his bed
On silent wings the owl flies past, ghostly in the gloom
How beautiful to sit out here instead of in some stuffy room
See there a fox, her cubs are by her side
She stalks small creatures of the night with the arrogance of her kind
The light is fading fast with the coming of the night
But you can listen to natures symphony sung by creatures of the night
This is a time I love when most others are taking night times rest
This is how I see nature at her best

Tonight, I wait for a man I don’t care to name
to send me an email I don’t care to read.
Somewhere along this timeline, the phone rings
and I neglect to answer it, because what if it’s him again
trying to feed me another USDA-declined beef stock story
about how his laptop keeps powering down prematurely,
not unlike his marriage to a woman who, I’m next to certain,
doesn't care to read his emails either?
Woe is him.
I’m not waiting another night, and evidently,
neither is she.

I banged my head on the shelf exactly
     half an hour after
     I´d taken an aspirin
for my hangover.
Didn´t feel a thing.

I can't drink a Miller without the taste
of a backyard, bonfire
raising and your name
only catching speed
in my throat before I gasp
too many, too late confessions. I can't
let the liquid rest with me,
just before I swallow,
or else I'll drown in reminiscing.
So I gulp.
I ferment my own mind and I punish
bottle after bottle even though
every breath after just reminds me
of inhaling your own
when we'd wind ourselves back up
after a drunken escapade
in your bed after everyone else
went to sleep and our dreams
had no chance of catching up to us. I can't
think of you too long
unless I balance on distance
and YOU'RE NEVER COMING BACK!
That's it. I can't
decide whether I'm happy that you've grasped
something so real and sturdy
after all the times I've played the crutch,
or if I hate you,
still, for leaving me by the fingertips,
dangling on a prayer for your safety,
basking in the light of your brilliance,
only to find myself here
in my shower
with a Miller
and an old country song on the radio.

i want the two of us shivering on a bare mattress in a ****** new york apartment
i want the two of us fighting over something stupid like what to listen to in the car
i want the two of us to go grocery shopping together
i want the two of us to make breakfast together without pants, singing into spatulas
holding hands at a concert
i want to see what you look like during summer- your hair loose and blowing in the wind, sunburns across your shoulders
i want to see what you look like in the winter- bundled in baggy sweaters and hunched shoulders
i want to see what you look like 5 years from now