Wednesday, September 28, 2016


New York is dying to me now 
or I am dying to it
Or neither
I have somewhere else to be and New York of all places will go on 
but there will be an imprint however faint
maybe a watermark or shallow impression
Like a date stamp from an ink thirsty pad
left behind in an ancient library book
There is no death
Just change
Just different
Just birth 
always birth
Everything is healing
We don’t go without for long
a person will sleep in the room where I once slept
The parents will employ another babysitter
Someone else will buy the produce from my corner store

Someone takes the vacant bed at the hospital
Some young person will accept the job of the nurse that quit
because she was yelled at
Someone yelled at her
for the last time

What a gift is the grump
they have no idea
in living and dying we are for each other 
each with equal roles living, dying, leaving, coming
one gets up from a table at a restaurant and one takes that seat wile it is still warm
We are all warming the seat

And enjoying the warm seat

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