City Muse #2:  Boston

Frannie Z

 

From campus,

Autumn cascaded over roads

like another sky.

The “real” sky breathed

over skyline, where sea almost

poked in, but only obtruded

in bays.

 

I walked and walked,

never tired.

I became my own trolley.

Spooling rails, slipping, greased,

over dreams,

I yelled Whitman’s poems

from bridges.

 

Cambridge sang: a concert

every night.

The streets stayed lit.

Late voices arrived,

just slightly drunk.

 

I grew so lost at times,

I could have been a car,

but a happy car.

 

Even in snow.