tribeca park

If you could quit me
(leave me be will you?)
If I were any shrewder
(be shrewder)
If there were a way
to sit here on a bench
at the center of the world
and believe all you voices
squirreled into me year on year
were not in vain
(how could they not be?)

If you were not in me
(I am)
If you were not of me
(I will be)
If you were not squirming
for renewed life through me
would I not sit here in this epicenter
(tell me you’re not)
wind bright blue against my cheek
wine glass cradled against my cheek
prosperous, easeful, waning
(you’re not?)

If I were not riddled with you
(I am)
If I were stronger
(I’m not)
I’d’ve shut you all out long ago
and had nothing to whisper
into my wine
and slept in peace
(I will, I will).
May 2007