Winter Vision

Park Avenue icy street
an old woman slips,
slides downtown
enveloping the city
in winter-veined thighs.
The last policeman
blows his whistle,
dreaming of issuing a summons
for reckless suction.



The glitter of evening
was there, was there,
the black ties
the coiffured hair,
the designers smiles
and patronizing voices
that rose from the pit
to the astronomer's perch
atop the last balcony.
The women were gowned,
the men were renowned,
the music and settings were grand,
The singing was drab.


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