Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters

Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof

out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross

surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers

'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking

your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn.

I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.

O Thought, now you'll have to think the same thing forever!