These Days In July

My daily routine -

I reach out to grab your hand
the one I can't see in the crowd or on the train.

I seize your elbow anywhere.
I think about you and you arrive
on the R at Lexington and 59th,
climbing up the stairs with me to
95 degrees on W. 79th and Broadway.

It can't be five years.

Another day this month,
no ventilation on the subway.
Switch cars, wait to
feel the cool air come on.
The Spanish minister,
the announcement about delays,
sounds amplify
disturb peace

while I blare
Le Tigre.

It can't be five years.


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