We cross Brooklyn Bridge by bus
I take my shirt off in the summer heat
on the top deck, listening and looking
My wife is embarrassed but
She points out to me
The Strawberry Moon

For 2 or 3 seconds
Between buildings
I see it

Distance avails not.
Time avails not.
Place avails not.

O Uncle Walt!
O people of the future!

What I briefly saw
You too shall see

Decades or centuries or millenia
Into the future

I am closer to you than you suppose.