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