walking toward the north in Manhattan,
dawn covering things with its lambency,
the ferry terminal crouching behind me
with its neon sign flickering
that squat fire hydrant –
is it drowning in the solid
but swirling concrete of the sidewalk,
or is it growing slowly out of it?
or, as likely, am I only drunk
with the breeze, the half-light, the rare silence?
I rub my eyes, shake my head.
I smile and keep on ambling.
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012