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Mystery Is The Answer

Because of the angel breath of  10 pm evergreens tangled in streetlight

that sit next to large purple stuccos in darkness

surrounded by thousands of woodchips

 

And sitting with my one-eyed cat

his quiet disabled divinity in soft black

 

Or walking with pendulum arms that we let swing wildly behind the middle school

to savor every bit of cold strawberry ice cream

laced with rich chocolate sauce that stains pants

(but who cares when you’re under a blanket of stars and the orange cream New York City pollution light glow?)

 

And lovingly,

The generous southwestern hug of the sun

and her overwhelming Jewish mother ‘optimist in adversity’ consolations

that grow to be a bothersome pain in the neck

but soon after are greatly missed

 

And strangely,

Wide Eyes

above loose motorcycle shirts

baggy blue jeans

and dirty white reeboks

agape and starry

on

the uncomfortable strip of 42nd between 7th and 8th’s dollars cents and nonsense galore

 

And curiously,

the workings of a notion because…

 

 

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