#88 Is There An Algorithm For This?

There you are on the street. I was sure I passed your building. I knew I would  not see you.
I fucking passed your building.
I did.

There is a  homeless man who is hoisting a large duffle bag onto his back. He is deep black and his bare calves are yelling fantastic muscles. He is dirty and raw.  Wearing shorts on a cold day. He is wearing a t-shirt and has purpose.

WE both walk past him.

I see you.
There is no one else on the sidewalk except
US
 57th street in the early afternoon.
You avert your gaze to
Him
His excellence
The homeless man is very very very
important.
That is the algorithm.
That's what works.

Your face is soft and I remember love
I know you are no longer soft.
You are mean


Spa Castle is a great place to contract germs and maybe relax on the rooftop on 57th Street in a hot tub meant for 1: 104 degrees Fahrenheit. I look up at the buildings and the cavernous important real estate. Bubbles are pulsating against my back and it there are dark windows in every direction.

Hundreds of dark windows.

 I see a lit room and a tiny person in green scrubs inside next to a floor lamp. There is a hand on his hip and I don't know what he is doing and I wonder if he can see me, us , on the roof sitting in a steaming bubbling tub of hot water.

Boiling over.