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 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 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 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