Walking, again

" ... gray clouds part like a fleece jacket unzippered ... "
Manhattan skyline from George Washington Bridge

Firehouse door, Canal and Allen streets, East Village

Anatomically correct kitty statue, 79th Street and Park Avenue, Manhattan

Today
Manhattan was mine
seven leagues
20 miles
a trail of footfalls
from North Jersey
nearly the length of the island

Crossing the George Washington Bridge
haven't felt a hammering headwind like this
in a long time
it's a cunning sparring partner
threatens to sweep my feet from under me

Walking down Hudson River path
wind roaring in my ears
my eyes water
can't hear myself think
gray clouds part
like a fleece jacket unzippered
on the gusts
a hint of spring

I leave the riverside
to escape the wind
walk east down 83rd Street
to Central Park
Choose a serpentine path
blasted through bedrock
deserted
runoff from yesterday's rain
drips from an overpass
cars and taxis zip by

Cross Fifth Avenue
Madison
Park
Lexington
Third
Second
First
Downtown-bound

Reach Gramercy Park
memories of my grandmother
summers spent as a kid
not far from the little bar
where O. Henry wrote
"Gift of the Magi"
and Babe Ruth bragged
over beer and cigars

Cut back west to Third Avenue
head down to Canal Street
Chinatown
hucksters hawking
fake designer bags
and wind-up toys
and God knows what

Sun setting
streets emptying
People rushing home
to see
the Super Bowl kickoff

Streets turn quiet
purposeful Chinese ladies
head home from shopping
men shut their stores
and I head to the Manhattan Bridge

A dark, mysterious span
over the East River
not a soul on the footpath
wind blows dust into my eyes
subway trains clatter by
deafening screech of metal on metal
sparks cast a greenish light

To my right
the Brooklyn Bridge
twinkling like tinsel
strands of angel hair

On a whim
I don't double back
across the Manhattan Bridge
I'll head into Brooklyn
city of churches
instead
and take the Brooklyn Bridge
that lacework fortress
back over the East River

Back in lower Manhattan
the financial center
Wall Street
all dark and quiet
no deals going down
all the tourists gone
a few drops of rain
(hungry ghosts weeping)
I see the ghost
of Bartleby the Scrivener
(he still prefers not to)

Head up Allen Street
which becomes First Avenue
after Houston
past crowded bars
sports banter wafts outside
men out front smoking
excitedly talking
the world's biggest football fans
some just for this day

I stop at my friend's sushi bar
the place is a crypt
kid reading a book
at a corner table
leaves as I arrive
just me
and the waitress
and the cook
and the radio
I quietly sip my beer

Return from the toilet
to find someone sitting next to me
some college girl
young enough to be my daughter
I try to make small talk
amid cavernous silence
rebuffed, ignored
she turns away without a word
"Don't flatter yourself
you just happened to be there"
(I feel like saying)
but I finish my beer
pay the tab
tell her
"Enjoy your dinner
and keep in mind
life isn't nearly as serious
as you make it out to be --
but you'll find out"
and back out into the night

9:30
trudge uptown
losing steam
ankles sore
carefree stride well behind me
walk past the carriage horses
along Central Park South
no business at this hour
drivers talk among themselves
in conspiratorial whispers

I reach Columbus Circle
nearly fall asleep on the A train back to the GWB
I get off the train
the station quiet as a catacomb
up the stairs
onto the street
into the darkness

Half-moon perched
atop one of the GWB towers
wind still howling
even stronger than this morning
not another soul
walking back to New Jersey