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| Wheel of Life, photograph by Claire Yaffa (c) 2010 |
Today is the third anniversary
Of the day in Central Park
When I dropped my watch
And shadows
silhouetted upon sidewalks
spoke in a language
heard ten thousand years ago
When you rowed upon the river
Upstream upstream
Your muscles tire
Long before
Or the way
cigarette smoke
twirls ever upwards
like that bitter night
on the wet streets of Paris
You gave that beggar
your last centimes
I don’t go there anymore
There seemed no point
Once time escaped
The broken wheel
My cart is filled
with belongings
That are not mine.
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