City lights, Times Square,
Central Park, no country fairs.
Metro. Museum of Art.
Sneak into exhibitions,
look like I’m rich
but with like-minded people.
Never sleeping;
always staring, captivated.
Listening to the underground music,
musicians I wish to see now.
Answering machine saying,
‘Find me on the streets.’
No one to see me directly.
Everyone too busy.
Looking like I’ve somewhere to go:
to my laptop, in my studio.
Keeping bedroom curtains open
while getting undressed.