Water collections
Puddles
That can potentially by cars
Keep clear of inch deep waters
Splashing from others
Falling items
Birds
Traffic
Others
Walk
The tight rope
Walk on thin ice
Manhattan Strut
In the reins of winter
Staying clear
Of the hazards
How I have learned from others
My own follies
Tried and true
Walking in the rain
I’ve learned to get through
On a mission
Or a great diversion
Walks on nights
Needed to refresh and start again
In winters hands
Cold and wired
Late night walks
Are sometimes
Required
A new type of certainty
A falling away of certain
Today is today
The moment is now
Can’t hope for anything more
Right now
Just live in the moment
Now
What would it take
To get a seat in the cafe
In Williamsburg
Off 6th
Sunday
As the sunlight
Glistens I’m off
Frozen streets
Keeping an eye
For an opening
As the groups of people
Come and go
Bustle to and fro
A seat is precious on a Sunday
At best I can reminisce at how
We once had a seat at the cafe
On an easy Wednesday
But today now a seat was open
Not an empty chair
The sun continues to flow in the windows
Like streams of gold thistle
Through the trashed Christmas trees
Not a seat to be had today
So seats are to be envied
On a brisk Sunday in the cafe
On 6th Street
Through the window
At my old
Decrepit
Apartment
I can see
A new building
High rise built
In the back
Through a courtyard
I see dim lights
Glowing in warm rooms
Delicate structures
Mantles hanging
While golden geese
Swoon
Through the old window
With a moldy AC
I can see
How the others live
In NYC
Set the goal
Call the time
Set up a sinister
Set of rhymes
Jump through the hoop
And over the mountain
Drink water from the
Ever tempting fountain
See you on the other side
In due time
Goals listed
And achieved
What we have
What we need
A knit carriage
Will carry me home
When time is undone
Confusion sets in
Find me
Where the wind blows
Through open windows
Upon a knit carriage I
Will
Ride
Write slow and smooth
All the unused phrases
Coming out in time
Hit the pen
Feel the rhyme
In coping with emotions
Happy and sad
Move the pen through feelings
Alive and dead
I hope that in the end
Finally
These words are read
The medical scatter
Over the mountains and
Through the woods
Holding our health
While they could
Medical scatter
From denial chatter
Hope reservoirs pumped with dreams
It is true
Nothing is quite
As it seems
Arrogant yet animated
Release the coils
Of a foiled sofa
We all have our moments
But let it run
Alternative facts
Alternative sun
My life is mine
Yours
Your own
What we do
How we have grown
