shyku for joe on the night he taught me about graeme obree

your stoop was not open
for business so I left
a book and wandered through Park Slope
until I hit Mooney's and
you and arranged, among other things,
an annual foot race with the whole family
watching and tried to play
bocce balls but there were
too many hipsters, oh so many
hipsters and they could never
understand Grandpa Joe
or Uncle Al or the game
they used to play and then
I was in a cab flying
toward the Upper West Side
and when I unwrapped my
whitefish on pumpernickel
the cabbie stopped at a red light
and pulled out an equally
delicious bagel sandwich
and said, "the bagels at
that joint are good, aren't they"
and I agreed and for the rest
of the trip I thought about
how everything that wasn't beautiful
was trying too hard
and even that was kind of beautiful