Through the streaming
window, the city from above:
wide avenues as a haze of amber light,
radiant from towers looming
toward us,
suddenly silent––

minor gods,
as we yaw northward
up Hudson, bank
above the gold diamond
of Yankee Stadium,
then hum downward
into the dark,

descend to macadam & sodium lights
crisscrossing like lasers:
fumes & grime,
our gravity, the city
as it must be,
eye level.