I wonder if
great
great
great
Aunt Tillie
ever thought
there would be
a hot dog vendor
on 48th street
selling Coach purses
right beside
roasting
chestnuts.
I wonder
this
as
I take a bite
and get out
a
twenty
for a souvenir
that will end up
in the land of
palm trees
and surf boards
and
Starbucks.
I'd like to think
great
great
great
Aunt Tillie
prayed for
people like me.
 
 
 
 
On Rye
 

The steam
from the subway
grate
hits my boots
makes me warm
from the bottom
up.
A woman discussing
deli
frowns
when the
pickles
arrive.
Why are there only 3
on
a
plate?
The waiter
doesn't seem to know-
or care.
I order ice water
with lemon
and a hard salami
sandwich.
Clogged
arteries
are a beautiful
thing
here.
I say this
to no one
in particular.
And that's ok.