Monday, March 19, 2007


Fumbling in my bag
on the corner of 40th and something
trying to find and apply lipstick
before the light changes.


I am off.
Before I’ve found the tube
or a mirror
or the courage.
I instinctively roll my eyes.

Such a pathetic ambition,
and aborted to boot!

I scold myself for managing to look like somebody’s nervous mom,
come into Manhattan for the day.

Then I realize
I am.