Fifth Avenue


“Remember me?
on Fifth Avenue –
I wore a red and white
scarf – it blew your
way one winter’s day.

You must have lost it
in the wind – since your
ego above others –
one of your strong points.

It kept you warm.

I left a package the other
day while waiting for a taxi –
how I detest shopping, lifting
bags into elevators, of high rise

finding one finger free, not
wrapped in plastic to
press the up button –

I carried from the taxi cab,
past the doorman – who always smiled,
waved, told me to have a wonderful day –
your worn out shoes –

It was you
enjoying Italian bread,
baked ham
a bottle of seltzer –
even Bombay Gin;
I had forgotten the grapefruit – 

I remember. 

my door man
should have noticed
a peculiar odor from my
bag and shoelaces dragging
against white marble – covered
in dirt.  He may have thought I
was running. . ..

Why did you move? 

I have walked Fifth Avenue
for weeks – past Joe’s
News Stand – Al’s Pool Room,
even down a lonely alley –
to track you down…

A storm arrived, as premature
as your new home – removing
safety inside your cardboard box
 – knowing cardboard
falls apart and destructs – 

You left your spot – but I noticed
garbage from white paper, wrapped
around Italian bread – you ate
the cold ham – at least it was boiled,
and I still wonder if you ever shared

My Bombay with your friends – 

Inside shelters;  I see three of you hiding
in the bathroom filling your rusted
flasks for your next journey.

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Angie's Diary