Two More Poems of Mine
New York City
I was born among skyscrapers
before the twin towers fell
I rode a baby carriage like a chariot
As my mother pushed it through
green grass and the leaves of trees
danced before my eyes and the gentle
breeze made me smile.
I almost remember bird songs
and the Good Humor man's bell.
Let me play in tar
And make mud pies for lunch.
I want to run on hot and humid days
And lie in the cool grass at night.
Remove the speck from my eye
With the corner of your hanky.
Tear the bandage off my knee
Then douse the scrape with iodine.
But do not put French braids in my hair
That pull my eyes toward my ears.
Let me keep caterpillars that will
morph into butterflies.
And fly away.