Steam rises from streets on 5th Avenue,
I’m walking over stoplight reflections,
trapped by introspection.
Tonight’s bound to last forever,
clock slows down,
sun drops below ground.
When I’m lucky,
yet I always get pulled back to this war.
I read how the soul climbs out of the potholes and stares ahead.
Lungs fill with sweet acid rain while steel boxes slide back and forth.
Paper boat heading down a gutter on the other side,
into the depths along with my pride.
If there’s a cavalry, would they know where to find me?
Tell them, if you can,
I’ll be in the middle of Central Park,
sailing paper boats.