day 89: New York City
Om Gum Shrim Maha Lakshmiyei Swaha
Oh, New York. You just sold me mint lemonade and an orange for 10 dollars and I treasure them.
I’m sipping like a 6 year old,
sitting on the roof of the Met with the other buildings that line Central Park
and peak above the trees.
I peeled my orange in one long peel.
I have blisters on my feet from walking up 5th Avenue all the way from the Mercer Hotel;
listening to music;
beaming like a teenager the summer she discovered big cities and pot.
The clouds are floating by like they’re glad we came.
There’s a woman slumped on a bench,
asleep and snoring –
not quite old enough for it to be ok.
A man sits next to me wearing dirty sneakers,
eating a tuna sandwich and rosemary olive oil potato chips,
sipping Chardonnay.
He seems content and kind.
I don’t know who the woman snoring belongs to.
I don’t know if she belongs to anyone.
And sadness flickers in my heart like an old light bulb; I don’t know which is on or off.
