Thursday, November 8, 2007: Yellow & Cream...Paris

Children hurried by, skeleton suits and tulle and superhero garb
winking out from between the wool coats and scarves, their layers
of costume competing to be seen.

Thursday, October 30, 2008: On the Street...The Sculptor, Moscow

Her hands worked best from 3 to 4 AM,
some worldly clock sounded in her brain
and roused her from the darkness of her bed.
The white comforter curled into the corner
like a pale, downy dog, waiting.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008: On the Street...The Graphic Designer, Moscow

When I saw Anna on the street,
(in the street? Prepositions
always do-see-do for me)
she stood coatless outside her office.
She called it a cigarette break,
though she’d never been a smoker.
Where’s your coat, I asked in passing.
Upstairs, she shrugged, hands clutching
elbows in a mock hug.

October 28, 2008: On the Street...Fur & Sweatshirts, Moscow

What can be said to her
to stop her from stealing my clothes?
The sweatpants and t-shirts
she hoards from my drawers don’t
return. Worse, I swear Grandma Trudy’s fur
(how did she find it, stuffed into a trunk
in the basement next to boxes of VHS tapes
that I haven’t watched in years?
I imagine her dark eyes shining
as she stroked the cape with tenderness)
clung to her shoulders as she stole past
the bedroom and through the front door.
She leaves her dresses and jeans behind
for me, I think. Souvenirs.

Sunday, October 26, 2008: On the Street...In the Crowd

Onstage, the new actors are learning not to walk,
but to perform walking.
From stage left to stage right, say
(and remember that all stage directions
are from the actor’s perspective,
proof that process is art’s compass).

Pick a point across from you.
Make your selection deliberate:
There, I want to go there,
And move. Real movement, urgent and full of purpose,
of intention.
And if you are still, create a reason to stand:
defiance, terror, quicksand.