On my way to the post office this morning, I was feeling
Pretty balanced, pretty good. I looked at the movie posters;
I passed the tattoo-and-piercing establishment. Some
Restaurant was frying up a batch of onions.
I got over that and kept walking. I retrieved my mail.
If I can be someone’s entertainment by being myself,
I have no regrets. I believed in my footsteps. I crossed
To walk through the gazebo. There were a few marigolds.
The sun was tilted and cooly golden. A crippled woman
Watched me from her car. It was a Tuesday; I remember
*Published in the January 13, 2014 issue of The New Yorker