SINGLE IN NEW YORK II


The best conversations
I have lately
are with
the bums who come
up to my car
at the light
and the
black kids
who want to wash
my windows.

Maybe it's
because we always
look each other
in the eye
and meet
on common ground.

These meetings
make my day
since I've become
alone
like pure
geometry,
again.

I would like to
tell someone
that the ficus
tree is growing
back leaves
that the summer is
going too fast
that mornings are
a pleasure now.

But this small
information is
not strong
enough
to tunnel through
all the
unavailability.

With so many
friends, strange
you feel
alone,
they would
say

if they
said
anything about me
to me
at all.

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