her

now and then

in the neighborhood
even the past catches up
sometimes
when she comes out
of nowhere on Madison Avenue
where I hardly walk
sticking to the park
but for a meander back uptown
from the current exhibition
of a calculated circus
of the now dead photographer
needing a think about
those unknowing entertainers
my quiet gawping on Madison
my reaction to
the excess, the wealth and the
cakes on display
in Willy Greenberg
draws my camera to shop windows
after she glides past me
like a rock on wheels
like an mobile manikin
smile-toothy and not

as dissipated and mad as
how I remember her
not as dissipated and mad as
the ones I have just seen
the couple arguing in Coney Island
or the child with the hand grenade
in the park that I love
or those cringe-worthy twins
and one that I met  a long time ago
her
who was once madly entertaining
before the signs rearranged me
not as beautiful
nor as lasting as
the lady who appears to be a gentleman
in the photographer’s lens
her
who I dodged
until the story was written
her
who made eye contact
on that well-heeled avenue
like a Vampire among the bitten
I ducked into the bookstore
breathed deeply and carefully
remembered what I knew
a writer accepts
any invitation
comes armed with
a qualified nod to discretion

I am a camera

it’s a careful collaboration

Diane Arbus, Miss Stormé de Larverie, the Lady Who Appears to be a Gentleman, N.Y.C. 1961, in the exhibition "diane arbus: in the beginning" @metmuseum Met Breuer, NY July 12 through Nov. 27