Sunglasses permit nothing
Not the glare of the afternoon sun
Nor the vagrant stares
But he saw into my eyes
The small man with booklets declaring a “story of progress” could not keep me interested for long
I shook my head no
Vigorously no
When he asked for just a tiny moment of my time-
And so on to the next one
If I close my eyes I can hear the
Hare Krishnas sing more clearly
As if it’s the only melody that exists
Clinging their clings
And clacking their clacks
The music becomes even louder
as I wrack my brain for more words to describe its insistence
I look up and see an old Asian woman talking to the blonde dancer with dreads
And the preppy boy in white Bermuda shorts somehow knows the chants and sings alongside all the devotees
A photographer takes a picture
The men play chess in rows and the the woman who brought two puffy neon pink seats
Waits patiently for someone to challenge her mastery…
A black Man in an orange t-shirt drifts by with a broom and dustpan in his hands and a smile on his face
I like the quote written on the back of his shirt, but he floats too quickly for me to catch it in its entirety
The ghandi statue looms in the corner
Fixated
Present
Dark
Infinite
Nothing left to promise
But a snapshot of the city
At an given moment
A day in union square
Can see into my eyes
The consistent sun dips
Mirroring
The patterns of the metropolis
A glowing orb
A fragrant moon
And to you
I say
Good
Night.