New York City Restaurant Scene
Steel ribs un-becoming, twisted splints
A masquerade of hovering protection
Fitfully flung the length of the room
Questions could be asked:
Picked up by mistake? Petty theft?
Simply someone more in need
Of what you had than he left behind?
Red-chalked words go slick on city sidewalk:
The stop-and-go story
Not about that
One black umbrella