Noon, New York City
Exiting a Grays Papaya,
he waddles off the sidewalk,
walking the white line of the curb,
then toppling to his side.
Rising,
he holds a look in his eyes
we cannot decipher .
A few feet away, my friend and I
wait for the light to change.
Looking back, we see him
waving fiercely,
as if trying to fly away,
but he cannot lift off
with only one good limb.
Beginning to cross the street,
he tilts slightly from right to left,
each step scraping on the pavement.
Walking without care,
stumbling through oncoming traffic,
he is blinded by this beautiful day.
Miraculously dodging spinning tires,
he moves safely through two lanes
without even trying,
on a path only he can see.
Then a silver Porsche nine-eleven
takes a right on red,
I avert my eyes.
My friend refuses to look away
as her mouth sews shut
in an uninviting frown,
and I see his future in her face…
Her eyes choke on a belated blink,
that cannot hide the image
of the kiwi,
fled from the zoo,
perishing in the city.
