Morninggale

Dawn over the Williamsburg Bridge and birdsong in the Village. Revisiting the old apartment, the old rooftop, and remembering how many nights were spent staring out at that magical skyline. Manhattan. So close, and still a world away when I cannot touch you. How long ago, and still, how much these walls are home.

Numbers traded and suddenly the car drops you in broad daylight. Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in. My hands they shake, my head it spins. Jittery, I giggle down Hudson street and contemplate morning on my stoop.

How can we sleep, when we have so few minutes to live? How can we close our eyes, when new angels appear behind every unexpected corner? I lie down, but my eyes dance along newborn birch leaves, stretching their limbs toward the gray dawn. Calling me pretty names, New York. How long ago, and still, how new I love you.