White Sky

An ancient business, a modern piece of glasswork
 Down on the corner that you walk each day in passing
 The elderly sales clerk won't eye us with suspicion
 The whole, immortal corporation's given its permission
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 A little stairway, a little piece of carpet
 A pair of mirrors that are facing one another
 Out in both directions, a thousand little Julias
 That come together in the middle of Manhattan
 You waited since lunch
 It all comes at once
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 Around the corner, the house that modern art built
 A house for modern art to keep it out the closets
 Of people who might own it, the sins of pride and envy
 And on the second floor the Richard Serra skatepark
 You waited since lunch
 It all comes at once
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 Sit on the park wall, ask all the right questions
 "Why are the horses racing taxis in the winter?"
 Look up at the buildings, imagine who might live there
 Imagining your Wolfords in a bowl upon the sink there
 You waited since lunch
 It all comes at once