Saturdays in the City

Art screams its strident regrets
and belts out street corner
be-bop high hopes on Saturdays
like a fat jukebox stocked
with shiny quarters,
when kids from the east side
rip canvas sheets from ship’s sails,
and boats on the polluted Hudson--
hapless rusty beautiful boxes
of faded color and watery romance
forget to float for only a moment,
sink or swim time for certain,
and maybe neither you nor I
makes it home before darkness settles
for a modest dinner of hot dogs,
sauerkraut and beer
and our ritualized mellifluous
6 o’clock news,
we two dazed,
stimulated celebrants
amongst skyscrapers,
subway stops and infinitely
appearing and disappearing
talismans of city life
in fields of abstract play,
happily burrowing in these,
our warm and meandering,
honeyed urban days.