I miss early morning showers, walking through brisk air,

and the first cup of coffee in the office before anyone else gets in.

I miss the hustle of the city, hurrying to catch a train,

laughing with friends while running to get out of an unexpected downpour.

I miss quiet, dirty bars,

with tipsy bartenders and bad karaoke singers in the back.

I miss sunny walks through the park,

seeing endless amounts of dogs and people laying out on blankets.

I miss the city at night,

pools of light on street corners and the soft cooing of sleepy pigeons.

I miss ten minute train delays, waiting too long for an under-baked bagel,

I miss tripping into a puddle and shrieking when my pants get muddy,

I miss the quickening of my heart when I think I’ve lost my metrocard,

I miss the smell of street vendors even though I hate hot dogs,

and I miss the kindness of strangers, the reliance we have on each other.

I miss New York.

I miss my life.


An uncommon quiet fills the air

and overwhelms any awareness of time.

Sunlight still streams through the back window

and the cat still lays in the patch of white light

stretching his big paws as he lets out a yawn.

There is still cooking and baking,

practicing the piano and taking gentle naps.

The silence becomes discounted,

part of the everyday,

part of life.

When there is a siren now,

a noise once part of the background of the city,

it rips at the air and ravages the ears,

ruining the reverie,

a grating reminder of the truth outside the solitude.

After Dinner

Classical music wafts in the background,

a low, tinkling sound that melds with the rattle of the radiators.

The dishes are piled up, needing to be washed,

the laundry hangs from miscellaneous light fixtures as it dries,

and the crumbs from dinner are spread across the couch.

But I will sit,

and try to enjoy this cup of coffee.

Perhaps I will figure out

how to tread water in this melancholy

because otherwise

I will drown in it.

what is that feeling

What is that feeling

the one that sits in the middle of your chest

and threatens to encompass your entire being

while dribbling down into your gut

like sewage infecting pure water

the one that ends up pooling in your feet

making them too heavy

to pick up off the floor

the feeling that swirls up like cigarette smoke

making your throat dry and ragged

and filling up your head with a fog

that tastes like ash

What is that feeling?