Raccoon colored clouds,
A tumbling sky,
Street puddles boil and gutters clatter.
what does it matter?
Neon light tassels lay lucent streaks
on Manhattan sidewalks
and mirrored streets.
The rain from its cage has been released.
Had thunder been a steak
Could I serve a feast?
But today, I’ve become a sidewalk fish
whose shoes go squeak and squeal and swish,
near buildings that sit like sunken ships.
So I mop up memories
and swim away
from a chlorinated sidewalk this wet Tuesday.
But I feel, yes, I feel
that come what may:
I’m a paper fish
In this city today.