It’s that I get lost when I look up at the night sky
crossing the Hudson on a ferry,
a horizon ahead of me on both sides,
flanked by the greatest city in the world
and its aspiring brother shore
The eternal indigo dome strewn with eons of jewels
captivate and shrink me,
a man on my infinity stage,
I may as well be looking up at the inside of my own skull.
It’s never clearer than these exact moments
that I’m living within a mind myself,
The confines of hardened bone,
shaped to match its view of its eternal womb
But whose head am I in,
whose head keeps me,
fills me to the brim with senses
as I occupy its corners.
A wind blows,
the ferry bobs
the city shimmers
and I wake
on the waves of my home river
the veins of my familiar ocean
and the blood of my sweet home earth.