the museum of modern art

i have a picture of her

in

the museum of modern art

in

new york,

of course.

it hasn't faded.

that memory of her

and i

in the city.

walking in the cold

from the roosevelt

all the way

through

the park,

to guggenhiem. 

her face

wrapped upon a smile

as she

stares

at the nude sculpture of a

man.

oddly life size.

i know that look.

i know it well.

we taxi back when we've

had our

fill of art,

this time, no train, or

walking

slowly

back to the hotel.