new york in memoriam

i’ve been watching far too many chair backs
not to feel—and don’t mistake me, love,
there is no treachery here. i am only alone
in a city with memories. ha! that’s trite.
just imagine how many thousands, how many
millions of billions of memories are
begun or rediscovered in a city such as this!
it must be overwhelming, to
whoever keeps track of these things.
that’s a comic difference between us and
them: we believe someone is keeping track.
but wait, say they’re right, say nobody is
waiting for us to disembark life’s train;
how silly would we feel to find it all pointless?
well, i think it’s a sad question, because
i’ve met the point. that, too, is trite,
which is something she never understood;
but you can’t love a song you’ve never sung.
so then, say my back was hurting and
i was watching people flirt, thinking
they’d act differently if it hurt to stand up—
and then say it suddenly reappeared to me,
that mahogany memory explaining why
they are all but memories:
this city, her dream, postures its own vapidity.
nobody faults her; dreams are ever clouds,
but this dream is all steam and no mist.
well, having this revelation, i would say:
so much in contrast, though always
you ever shine so brilliantly real, my love, while
all this city’s but silly posturing mannequins.
store fronts make an even sense if nobody is
keeping track, if he’s not waiting at our station.
but as i think he is, i wince at the emptiness,
watching the chair backs at my tables.




7/14/08 - sitting in a nyc starbucks before a meeting for W, watching people.