6: 30, Valentine’s day.
There is neon pink vomit
On the floor of the L train.
You’ve been writing poems on the subway
Passing love-notes to the city.
You lose them in your apartment entryway
When you fumble for your keys.
Last night, did you see?
The Empire State Building
It had a heartbeat.
Lit in great red lights they
The evening had its cheeks flushed.
Did you know?
That When the city gossips
It creates the sound of footsteps.
It melts the snow off the cement.
The buildings lean down to the street lamps
“Have you seen her?
I guess the rumors were true.
Red is a rather good excuse to break rules.”
I can only assume that the moon is out where you are,
That you are fast asleep, ignoring her.
That she is in on the scheme, along with the sidewalks and the subway cars,
The trees dressed in February woes.
Complaints against the cold.
I only hope that she left you chocolates.
I only hope that you are dreaming of such sweet nonsense.