We try to visit MOMA
but it’s closed on Mondays,
bummer, so we walk
down Fifth Avenue
in the light rain to the Plaza,
we want high tea but
we’re politely shown
to the Grill (improper attire).
We find a rare book shop,
barely noticeable from the street,
and walk up the stairs when
we’re buzzed through the door
to see and smell rows and shelves
of leather-bound words.
I go solo to see this revival
of Moon for the Misbegotten
at the Cort and have a drink
at intermission on the warm,
wet, June sidewalk.
I still smell the rain, different
here than anywhere else.
This poem is submitted to Poetically Friday at One Stop Poetry, hosted by Brian Miller. To see other poems about New York, please visit the site.
Painting: At the Sherry-Netherland, oil on board by Amy Stewart. Via Lost Coast Daily Painters.
