Washington Square

As i walked from Strand Bookstore with my fresh copy of O’Hara in my pocket,
The shorter buildings of Union Square and East Village brought solace
After the crush of Mid-Town’s scrapers covering up the sky stirred up old anxieties

Ahhhh…Washington Square just outside 1 Mews where I was one year ago today
When the drops of fountain water felt like a sweet baptism-
That relief so absent in this moment,

And there He was:

He’s a multi-coloured Pomeranian she said
His tufts of hair blowing over his forehead like
A Donald Trump toupee,
His cool calm loins spread out on the sidewalk,
His name is Tuxedo, she said

And I couldn’t get past the contrast-
Tuxedo dressed so cool and calm,
hair blowing in the breeze,
Me wilting sweating melting-
A strawberry ice-cream in a sugar cone,
Slipping falling

Becoming a pigeon’s sticky footprint on the stoney hexagons concrete,
Those pink flowers by the fountain whom I have yet to meet
Seeming to be, right now, in this moment,
Doing so much better than me.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, June, 2017, New York City, NY.


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