In a far-off land
They throw cigarette butts into the trash
I move on…
She enters the store
I check out her muscle tone
I check out her ass
I move on…
I see a shirtless man
I remember talk of a “no-shirtless” ordinance
What freedom will i fight to keep?
And why do i accept pants?
I move on…
=======
In a Queens hospital
Electrodes strapped to my head
As i run a battery of intellect and reflex guinea pig tests
I set and then break the all-time record for most finger strikes per minute
An actor making a living
On Broadway, i get my first glimpse
Letterman’s Sullivan Theater
My excitement lasts a good 7 or 8 seconds
Then i seek the grail
Rupert’s Hello Deli
It’s not to be found
(perhaps it doesn’t exist; Rupert some pretend player)
One hour later returning, a thunderstorm brews
I start to run
Not because i don’t want to get wet
But for the sport of outrunning a storm
A woman is running behind me
She’s well-groomed, and invites the world to love her breasts
We’re the only ones running
I look back, and we smile
The drops start to fall
We pass the Sullivan entrance
I cross a street, resigned to no Rupert
I look back, and she has turned down the side street
Not ready for our moment to end
I parallel her move
After fifteen steps
I glance over, and she’s passing the Deli
She ducks into the next door, late for work
I stop
The Deli sign is darker than i imagined
I cross the street
Standing in the entrance, i look in
And there he is
I smile
2004
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