November 19, 2011
I am here and this island is
as much a mason jar as the
next. A year ago, I sat
on a beach in St. Thomas,
scalding my lungs in Caribbean air,
and now I am here,
the smog of millions of
New York City lungs
blur the glass around me.
But whether I am there or here,
the population of
man-munching ocean depths
and the only color I
see is a deep harbor gray
settling in like fog
from the collective
sigh of skyscrapers and streetlights
as I peer through the window
trying to see.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback