Track 22 from my book Greylight.


Mouth opens to sky filled with zodiac; flashbulbs from cameras.

Impatience stands by the information booth, waiting.

Announcements over the PA—blinking train tracks & men in fatigues greet me. Street opens to car horns & midweek, midtown mayhem.

Sitting at Rockefeller center counting tour books & cameras. Greeted by loss & joy. Saint Patrick’s opens its arms wide,

pulling me in. Listening to languages, cameras coming in for solitude & pain. Sitting front row—listening to echoes of souls bouncing off

the stained windows, leaping across marble floors.

Tree-line means I’m at the park—crowds thinning & doormen appear, flagging taxis; ordered cars, where Money is.

Crossing

across eastside, old Irish bars that survived, stand firmly through temporary cosmopolitans, fusion menus.

Watching

my old self, I find solitude over a plate of waffles & intimacy of weddings 3000 miles away from home.

Downtown

heading towards Lexington—suits having lunch–daily grind. Down into the 6; waiting minutes, while smelling stale air, rats scurry, tucked between time out & college students I go downtown, walking familiar corners; I find indecision in a dressing room. Whistling to Blur—we change.

Wondering what is exactly behind door number two, three. Late Summer heat bring hormones to the surfaces like small flames. On a street

corner

fate stands lost & indecisive, time is only something that catches us at Grand Central–venus’ flytrap. Pondering stroll & watching landmarks pass, seeing myself twenty years earlier; tired feet finds track 22, leaving zodiacs, 20 second crushes, smell of acid air, yellow cabs, 125 street station

announces my departure.

Copyright Cecilie Roaldset from book Greylight.


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