A tattered old lady (yes, with pearls),
thirteen boys and girls from a nearby elementary school,
Michael and his famous dog Curly
and one lone swan flying in from Charleston, South Carolina;
all of them converged last evening
(just at sunset)
in Times Square. NYNY
They danced together for a short while,
whirling past tourists and other ravenous beasts,
while the swan let loose a song of towering majesty.
I saw this myself
(this delicious pinpoint moment
in the space-time continuum)
with one eye fixed firmly on the truth,
the other eye on some kind of wonderful.