An American Ramble.

Why read?

For no reason at all
The simple, useless pleasure
Of a world unfolding
Layered thin & light
Like so many crisp Fall leaves

Watch each as they lift
That vital dusk gust
As if a dancer's offer, a hand
To waltz a swan song circle to the forest floor.
This Park though, is an echo
Of a wilderness Ramble
Lost long ago to looming towers, steel, glass

And subways! So old! Smeared greasy dirty
Thunderous, clanky like a fall-apart toy
Filled with miniature toy people, mad people
Business people, touring people, student people
Uncivilised - and damn proud.

Every subway is marked by green bulb lamp posts
Every neighbourhood looks like Sesame Street.
Pedestrians disappear into the dark by these posts
Like well dressed British moles.

Everybody has loved this city, but it's a Mormon lover
It can have another!

And I - well I
Delight in shotgun marriage impulse
Is there any way to be more American?

We could contemplate Buddhist scripture over Fifth Ave brunch
(The King, Not Content Until All Questions Found Answers)
We could laze at the Met
We could sit by the teen girl and her friends at Times Square as she compliments each passing pedestrian sing-song (Saturday night, for an hour.)
We could catch a show, catch a bite, catch a ferry (to Staten Island, free)
We could never sit still.

Don't you know though,
the answer is obvious.

You need a hot dog.
Ketchup. Mustard.
Go on. Get lost.