From my roof I watch planes land
Before I lived here I
Believed that all planes
Landed in New York.

That all things were settled here.
When I landed everything
Came undone and I am
Up in the air. I am
Starting again.

From my roof I can see Manhattan
Sprawling over there.
Some untended garden
Grown out of control.
There are lights climbing up
The faces of buildings,
Swinging wildly on the wires
Of the Triborough Bridge.

From my roof I can smell
Barbeques I was not invited to,
Thrown by people I have
Never met. I have not met
Many people here in the crazy garden.

From my roof I watch the sun slide down
The walls of the sky to the floor where
The light goes now, down the drain.
The days are leaner now, with
Less sunlight in them.

I have witnessed
This once before, and it does
Not seem like it should happen again so soon, the
Emptying of the days, I mean.

It does not seem so
Long ago that someone else might have sat, and
From their roof, watched my plane land.