Camera

Imagining Ft. Greene

A room for sitting and tracing the leaves that drop
along the wrought iron gate that leads
to the garden of sand where I found a little Mary
pendant, despite whose presence no tomato
feels at home. The sidewalk past the church
is even and white. The hulks
of summer buses and ice cream trucks
shudder, the sweaty footprints
of boys dart like eels or mirages.
Marveling, I follow you,
capturing the slow alphabet of your walk.