[Verse 1] The reverence is broken by a subway evangelist Who insists that the mayor knew the accident would happen And offers us copies of handwritten literature Defending her argument And gives us coupons for discounted storage On Staten Island [Verse 2] Ascending the steps, the grime on the subway I acquire the next cup of coffee On route to the flower shop Off of Newman and Stray Saddled behind the register In a cross-ward stance I think to myself “What's the Latin word for dying of boredom?” For I fell onto the ice when A woman walks in, I'm thinking she's Russian Redolent of beet soup and of cabbage She points to a puffy, red vinyl, heart-shaped balloon [Verse 3] Her eyes are red-rimmed We speak in gestures The balloon reads, “Our prayers are with you.” I wonder if she knows someone A victim of the accident I can't think of these things right now [Verse 4] I know I had to be doing something more Rather than merely transacting a [?] floral Arranging these roses, lilies, lilacs, and daffodils Sawgra** and mugwort So many flowers [Verse 5] Only later, would I walk to weary my body Part of its nighttime contortions Borne of strained sleep On a stranger's sofa [Verse 6] Dressed, shaved, flip-flopped I walked down the main drag Pursuing coffee and donuts For what's a day without a donut? Light skitters on the sidewalk My leg feels like an instrument of sunshine The line for the coffee has wound around the block We try to be carefree, though the world is turning black ‘Cause what's a day without a donut? What's a day without a [Verse 7] At last, I am no longer Counting the times she will inhabit a day I no longer scan the paper for her name There's a great green drive that I want to play Under canopied corridors and overcast skies Speaking of our fathers so self-consciously polite Grateful to have found each other And not to have lost each other I am focused on my coffee