Afternoon here
I wake around noon,
go for a donut, coffee,
recognize no one
except the clerk, who smiles at me
when I pay, come back and read the Times,
shower, dress, go out for the day. It’s one.
I walk south, cut past the park, mimes,
a man with a camera. Of course, the sun
is cold today and fresh
with a good breeze in my face.
I reach the water, wish
for a warmer jacket. I’m here, a mile from my place,
alive, blocked out by pier shadow,
building shade, brown waves, sun glare
off the window glass, and a window
of time, March afternoon, afternoon here.
