100%

100%


After years of being in love 
with the wrong people 
I’m still open like The Paris Theater 
on 58th Street. I walk up 
and down Sixth Avenue 
thinking of who I was six years ago. 
The waiters at The Odeon 
wink at me. A woman 
in a gold dress drinks alone 
and men in suits talk of the market 
which is up like my libido.
Hello, God. What now? 
Will I ever learn how to cook 
and not use my oven for sweaters? 
Will I stop expecting the French to love me? 
Will I carry an umbrella on days 
when it says 100% rain? 
What is 100% rain exactly? 
How could anyone be that certain? 
Not even love feels that way 
and again I’m the person 
telling strangers more than I should.
The person nodding yes 
instead of no. The person 
who wouldn’t return to the past
even if I had an umbrella. 
Why bother? 100% it’s not 
as good as whatever this is.

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I’ll be reading this & other new poems tomorrow (Mon, Sept 11) at KGB bar. 85 East 4th Street. 7:00 p.m.

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