they didn’t even mind that their skinny jeans got damp
instead they ran through the streets of the West Village
laughing as they hadn’t since they were children
jumping in puddles (first he, then she, then he again)
as the sound of a jazz combo lurched up the stairs from the 55 Bar
following them down the street like a beatnik mendicant
on the corner of Greenwich Avenue, across from
Jefferson Market Garden, she grabbed his arm, pulled him close
they kissed in front of Village 1, parting the shoppers like a boulder in a river
then, laughing, they danced out of sight down the avenue
17 December 2013
State College, PA
/ / /
The title of this poem comes from something written by Avital N. Nathman, whom you should be following on Twitter and at her website.
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