a day in familiar sensations

smell of musty elevators in apartment buildings like the one my grandmother lived in
and checked tableclothes spilled with diner syrup
the rumble and stale subway air echoing melancholy off the platform walls with classical guitar chords well dressed but scruffy fingers wincing as the train announcments sound off beat
jumbled glare of warehouse graffiti only visible from the tracks

smell of ocean salt and expectation, each summer of my youth
crunch of toes in sand and spiraled shells between fingers worn opalescent with waves
colors in the mute gray breeze: sky blue and purple clouded sand drifts edged with red tar waves with green ripples only vibrant when the sun slides out from behind the approaching storm
then the sand is brilliant
a cut of tweed porkpie hat and mother of pearl inlayed accordian, a boy on the T tries to look ambiguous and older than his too smooth cheeks and century

"hello!" shouts an old friend smile not seen for four years
smell of basil grown and ground to pesto by her hands
tang of red wine and bite of whisky, irish clinking on ice
overtone harmonics of musicians tuning and crackle hiss of microphone failure
sore muscles from too much walking
shimmering reflection of moonlight on water and the configuration of the Plaeidies
taste of kisses on rooftop



***

today we wandered into the downtown crossing to browse through musty old used bookstores (and why am i not running one?) where i found a copy of some aldous huxley poems from the 30's and Plath's "Ariel" which i remembered later i had dreamt about buying a copy of in my dreams last night (except that one was enormous and in spanish).