He’d attract less attention
than a stalled taxi cab. Who
in this town would notice
another big guy with hairy
legs looking up at the Empire
State Building, camera
in hand? Summer’s
over now, Republicans
gone, the Yankees in deep
shit with the Red Sox
breathing down their necks.
His “I Heart New York” tee-
shirt three for ten dollars on
any cart south of Canal
Street, and maybe pinned to
his massive chest a button
from the Metropolitan
Museum of Art in today’s
color, Tarnished Brass or
Patriot Act Blue. Two days
of hard rain shut the subways
down, so let him climb.
Cops’ll be there to arrest him
when he drops to earth, but
you can pretty
well bet, no planes this time.