bryant park 4/10/09

that was a bad tuesday and this is good friday the one similarity being that on both days the sky ripped in two. you did not exist then not to me anyway but our day today in bryant park is much like that morning when I sat here reading the times among old monuments and upcoming fear.

blue stretches above from the bryant park hotel to grace – the building not the state – in concordance with the green carpet at the bottom of this glass and concrete canyon. the park’s signature green chairs are as silent now as the grey pigeons were then just prior to the larger silver bird crossing the canyon - from grace to the north to the hotel to the south – causing the beating of wings and the breaking of glass and the wave of what we did not yet know.

officers with rifles circle the park now as a reminder of then and as a siren goes the opposite way up 6th and I see you crossing 42nd and our eye contact is crucial because it’s lifting me above the a seven year malaise that started on the eleventh and ended today.

above the park and it’s carousel and ring of trees and well above grace I see the apollo to the north and queens to the east and a thousand feet above the hole to the south is a the fading shadow of a little girl on her mother’s lap looking out the window of an airplane heading in the direction of disneyworld.