I kind of am, I am
Every woman:
Woman and I meet
Every 8 minutes
On the corner of Water Street and John

From which I can see the circular battery
Where Mallory got that residency.
I sat close to it on the ferry:
My envy
And sitting with several chances

Raw from the seaport mall:
A diaper on the coast.
Strange whiffs of other families
Whose kids have learned more
Or less than you, or learned stuff from birds.

Seaport: Scraps on the porch
Left for creature
You won’t lure in yet, never.
I watched a ferry dock and dump a group
Of girls it seemed to be promoting.

We. Are. Fa-mi-ly.
Sounding from the Taco Vista,
A helicopter leaning,
The Consulates are tall but I can feel it:
It’s that way