This morning when I
Strolled around at breakfast time
I lost an earring,
A protractor that hung off
My bag from Staples
And a note that Grandma Gail wrote for me when we were
In Palm Beach

I now wander heels click on sidewalk
Wave at the doorman at 960 Park with the
Space between his front teeth
Poodles by my feet dressed in Burberry coats
And dyed pink ears
Welcome to Park Avenue

Continue on my way until I see
Tiluna Nocito and the Anrig twins
Walking toward me holding cups
Of green tea lattes and I wonder why
I am not holding one too

It seems that Park Avenue is infinite
As are the faces
I either met in a dream
Or as a small child I guess
That's what you expect when you
Grow up in a town all your life
Even if it is New York

I never stop seeing the familiar
In the billowing tar forest
The strip club promotion on taxi tops
Madonna is my next-door neighbor

I pass by the place where I played
As a child on the brown stoop outside of Joe’s
And I refuse to rest on the banister littered
With cigarette butts or even check
If Joe still lived inside