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Father of twins and novelist/filmmaker/musician
in New York on the
Upper Upper Upper Upper
Upper West Side.
People complain about musicals.
Nobody just stops in the street
I say you know the wrong people.
They say:
and breaks into song.
Haiku for a boy in yellow
That sound is thunder
ricocheting in the street.
I'll teach you to count.
That sound is Mozart
on a laptop on a bed.
Hear how dry and close?
Your breathing and mine.
Rain tapping the windowsill.
Cloth slides against cloth.
I ask for patience.
It doesn't come. Just temper
or serenity.
You used to cry a
certain way, but now you don't.
One, one thousand. Two--
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ricocheting in the street.
I'll teach you to count.
That sound is Mozart
on a laptop on a bed.
Hear how dry and close?
Your breathing and mine.
Rain tapping the windowsill.
Cloth slides against cloth.
I ask for patience.
It doesn't come. Just temper
or serenity.
You used to cry a
certain way, but now you don't.
One, one thousand. Two--
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