Friday Propels

Rain to bring on the heat, beer
to jump start a government
shut down. I could disappear

behind this digital self
portrait that turned out too dark.
Could take another

image to protect myself
from those gray areas—but I like
this shadow kissing my cheek.

Connecting Flight

Free to walk in the rain
in a park—to imagine a dial
tone from the sole remaining 

pay phone on the southeast corner
where the sun might have crept in
another afternoon. It might dry up 

in time for true blues
on a plaza, for a baseball game
to play out in a new stadium 

where birds get in free.

Because the Roosevelt Island Tramway Was Closed

This bleeding is a reminder—
not all watermarks spring
from water, not all spills
are toxic, not all rain washes 

away grit, not all words
make it to the next day. She’ll do her best 

to read another message
that might hang in suspension
without slipping
out of place. She could become 

in place if she refused
to grimace over outpourings.