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Times Square By Kasia Pater June 19, 2008 A steady flow of yellow cabs Streaming by like barges row, The tributaries crossing fork, Images come and go. I rub on you, you rub on me. Together, Babel we amass, Sporting faces that inform Anthropology brush-up class. Above our heads a sea of lights Basks all in new beginning: A Mamma Mia! low-cut dress, A siren — morphing, screaming. Yet, eyes that seek in memory Can see between the hues Emmaus fair where peddlers Herald the Good News. Three-dollar diamonds sell mighty well, It's buzzing in the hive. Our spirits glow fed by the news — With times the merchants thrive. And on this island where crossroads Lure, I stand like a pole alone. Millions milling, passing by Beneath the flashing drone. About the author: Kasia Pater lives in the Bluegrass region of Kentucky, where hills roll and the grass blooming blue blends with the sky at times. A phenomenon that affects your retina contributing to more hallucinations. (This one dawned on me one evening last January standing at dusk in Times Square.) | | | |
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