From the half-clam band-shell stage in the park I hear
the Avenue B bus release her air brakes on the avenue a few blocks over
Lovers in reels with palms pressed to backs
do solid square turns on strong legs
Dumbstruck in full moon
they reflect more in puddles than street lamps
Just an echo
a chime in the hollow
From the first floor flat in autumn windows
the people below look so real
I am soothed by the glow of our neighbor’s light
a beacon beyond past the dark
My mom would wave to planes both welcome
and farewell like strobes and Doppler I could never be certain
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 