New City York

Lights on the green canal water
illuminate a boat, half sunk
and listless with mold, arched
like a shitting dog. As a grapefruit
is pealed blood pours out on the desk.
Now we can settle in for winter.
Spinning on airborne gestures,
flapping our arms in such a way
that the imprint of a hand is
visible on the curtains. Chocolate
and olive oil stains. I put on
my shoes in order to breathe.
Little things start to jiggle
as my building quivers from traffic.
Stop light, stop music, stop.