While you've been away in your
Cool dark grave,
Summer has returned to
Our Yorkville street:
The boisterous birds
Crowd the branches of green Gingko
The women walk past in
Sundresses, or shorts
Even the Brownies writing tickets
Have uncovered their arms.
I have unearthed my
Canvas camp chair,
Returned to my second floor perch on the catwalk
Unlike me, the
City barely notices your absence
One day, my own will be
Just the same.
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