Coming out of retirement to awaken deep
sleepers is one
person’s garbage becoming another
person’s treasure. Blue 

mussels and sponges,
black sea bass and mackerel, marine spoils
over a grave of a displaced
life. I cannot count 

the number of hours spent riding
Redbirds—the #1, “Last
stop, 242^nd Street, Van Cortlandt Park!” 

But it’s a lie—it’s a loop, 

a ghost of one beneath
City Hall. I can feed off
this ring.  I do eat fish.