A blessed breeze
pushes me off the tracks
to the trains
Like billy Collins or
collision consoles
whipping passed me
uncaring
like the past me

I have nothing left to be afraid of
besides maybe a tumor
and even then
I hope I'd sit back with my friend Pat
and seek the humor
And if it kills me
my loved ones should know
I died happy, but
mostly annoyed
and I'll be watching
when you pull out your lap top
and you lock your door
You pull out your tube sock
and I'm judging you
I'm taking pictures
and I'm laughing at you
Sitting there with Rooha
maybe with a lit blunt
Maybe where I go next
I'm not an addict

But for now my mother says
I'm probably healthy
Google searches disagree
In a world where our god
is broadcast through screens
All knowing
All powerful
Screens
Who should I believe?

I still get a dark taste
watching the un thoughtful mass
of clumped up, spot cleaned suits
pursuing what?
Fancy tooth brushes and
the newest carpet cleaners?
But then my train
ascends
I look at the Brooklyn bridge
and the statue who stands so
confused, over
what she is meant to represent
and I'm okay

You'd be okay too
if after ten years of dirt and fog
you were headed to Central Park
to walk a dog