i am wrapped in black wool.

i watch a man hunched on the subway platform.

dragging fingers through his scalp

he shakes.

his hair is bloody.

we disappear into stations.

greeted by the hiss of hot air

we unbutton obligingly.

the churches on the boulevard

are crowded out by high rises.

graveyards wedged into wind tunnels.

i look for the moon,

craning around skyscrapers

but the dark here is strawberry pink

and there are no stars.

so i settle for the gold dollar-coins

frosted in my pockets and

the couple beside us

skipping gaily over sidewalk


the empire state building,

traffic-light yellow

hangs over our heads.