Description
Where You Want to Be
You wake early again
get out of bed, walk over
to the window and look down
at the street to see if anything
has changed and, of course,
it never does.
At first you think the blanket
in the vacant lot near
the corner is new until
a gust of wind blows it
into the air and shreds
it into a flock of pigeons.
And if all the new clubs
make sure the city never
sleeps uptown the way the papers
claim, then the people under
cardboard in the alleys and in
front of doorways down here
every morning is how it finds
a way to nap.
The steeple on St. Bart’s a few
blocks away is a spike that nails
Christ into the sky if you can’t find
anything on the street to believe in
but it does nothing for the bent
trash cans standing along the curb
like arthritic old men who know
the real purpose of any life is found
in what everyone else throws away.
A woman coming out of the grocery
store on the corner of 4th in a short
skirt and heels does a better
job stopping traffic than
the red light hanging from
a wire that would rather swing
like Count Basie in strong
wind than stop every car
it should.
When you hear the woman
you admit you love start
breakfast, cracking an egg
open like the dawn, its yolk
a perfect tiny sun, you
are convinced this is where
you want to be, walking towards
her, hungry and ready
to eat the sky.
Listen to Kevin Pilkington read for the Black Lawrence Press Virtual Reading Series // Watch the captioned video on the BLP YouTube Channel
