Downtown on the First Warm Day


The air unclenches, buzzes, swells the city like

a blush, cracks the ice around my lungs. There are colors

to breathe again. I suck them in: a voice, the blue

pull of the crowd, her breath red on my hip once. Below,


the river sparkles as if about to sprout fountains.

The bridges hum and pulse, anticipate. Thousands

of faces glance, pass on forever or look, speak; and

out past the darkening windows of “Grill” (where six


diners and counter men are drunk or speaking Greek)

the towers shine: crystal candy and blueberry neon,

lights orbiting them like clustered angels. The sky blue

thickens and puddles above, deepens and spreads


like a warm sleep, or knowledge of some lost object;

the faces stay lit, remain. The days continue.

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