Didn't even know it...It's not raining tonight, but it should be.
on a rainy sunday night in manhattan
07.18.04 -- C.M. de la Rosa
on a manhattan night like this,
the decadent languidly dab
the smell of wet rain pavement on the soft flesh of wrists and elbows.
in short views, the yellow squares of peerless windows
interrupt black panes of perfectly stained glass night.
the carefully orchestrated ballet of ochre-dipped cabs
dissolve downtown along ninth avenue's avaricious sprawl.
couples waltz in clusters like confections
underneath the careful turtle shells of umbrella,
and sweetly turn down the blush of late evening.
the street is elegantly stippled
with a sunday evening spoonful of stalwart walkers--
the city's patient accomplices.
suddenly, the clop of a distance horse,
draws the attention of the cosmopolitan
landscape into sharply contrasted view.
the modern urban stroll is momentarily plunged
into a distant century.
the solitary mind jarred into desire's ancient base.
a wordless wish is spoken for the carriage
to whisk away this impetuous desire for endless night,
perhaps to turn the steady drop of moonless air into
a simple furrow of the city's sweeping reach,
a clandestine desiderate for eternity's elusive span.
the sonic interlude is relieved of its consequential pause.
the horn's bleat returns through the whisk of wheels
on wet pavement, journeying through another night
to join in perpetua
one lover to another.