Times Square
By Kasia Pater
June 19, 2008
A steady flow of yellow cabs
Streaming by like barges row,
The tributaries crossing fork,
Images come and go.
I rub on you, you rub on me.
Together, Babel we amass,
Sporting faces that inform
Anthropology brush-up class.
Above our heads a sea of lights
Basks all in new beginning:
A Mamma Mia! low-cut dress,
A siren — morphing, screaming.
Yet, eyes that seek in memory
Can see between the hues
Emmaus fair where peddlers
Herald the Good News.
Three-dollar diamonds sell mighty well, It's buzzing in the hive.
Our spirits glow fed by the news —
With times the merchants thrive.
And on this island where crossroads
Lure, I stand like a pole alone.
Millions milling, passing by
Beneath the flashing drone.
About the author:
Kasia Pater lives in the Bluegrass region of Kentucky, where hills roll and the grass blooming blue blends with the sky at times. A phenomenon that affects your retina contributing to more hallucinations. (This one dawned on me one evening last January standing at dusk in Times Square.)
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