The Day I Loved New York

The moon is eclipsing tonight.

I creep out of trivia night, hoping my absence will go unnoticed by my peers. The night is clear and black, and its late enough so that the cabs have silenced their horns and a certain tranquility exudes from First Avenue. Away from the smell of beer and bourbon, my breath escapes from the scarf that seconds as a face muffle; my fingertips burn from the Atlantic wind. Faint strains of James Taylor and Janis Joplin can be heard from bars down the street. And there it is. A soft, burnt sienna blanket embracing all but the top of the doe-eyed moon. And though its New York, and I can’t see the stars, I know they’re there.