First Light
Crowds of people stand with their backs to the colors, their eyes on their phones or on the train tracks. “Turn around!” I want to say, “You’re missing it.”
Blue Monday (A Tribute to Tom Petty)
For a moment, I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Then I remembered that loving Tom Petty is not embarrassing.
Summer in the City
And if Regina Spektor happens to be giving a concert in Central Park on that particular Wednesday, who’s to say I have to move my painstakingly planned picnic?
Once Crossing The Hudson
The next day is exactly like the first.
We don’t check the news.
Phones die on the picnic table while we swim.
Stacks on Stacks
According to Google, there are twelve independent bookstores in upper Manhattan, the section of the city I call home.
Leave Your Comfort Zone: Equinox Edition
After I signed a waiver that confirmed I wouldn’t sue Equinox if I died on the treadmill or passed out because I saw Blake Lively, we entered the immaculate studio.
Missing Mr. Feeny
It felt like I was coming face to face with someone I’ve known my whole life: a trusted confidant, a wise neighbor and teacher and principal and professor.
A Love Letter to my English Major
I wonder, sometimes, if you feel forgotten. After all, I did not become an English professor, as I once thought I might.
Returning (A Love Letter)
First, this is a poem to say thank you
for taking me back to Budapest.
Spring Cleaning
I would even go so far as to say that tidying, a good spring cleaning that freshens any staleness that has settled in over a long winter, can be a spiritual practice.
