To Imagine Nothing

I was a total failure

When it came to imagining nothing.

Whether on subway,

Sidewalk,

Elevator,

Or empty café,

Imaginings always drifted into

Solitary survival.

A small bug limping across the sink.

A memory of my father, always working, always worn-out.

Deducing distraction and perplexity was easy.

After all…

A perforation is invariably a perforation in something.

The dumpster outside my Ave C cold water flat

Was faithful with its early morning visitor,

A lone beggar with his mangy dog,

Whose eyes and tail moved frantically

When I would exit the building,

Gently deposit my meager scraps

For the dog to inhale

With no more than two breaths,

And two gulps,

As beggar delivered his ritual

“Nice man, nice man.”

I was still with lingering nocturnal reverie

When I entered the hole-in-the-wall café nook,

Expecting to have coffee

And an imagined cream cheese and lox bagel,

When, unexpectedly, an attractive young lady

Stepped out from the kitchen

To wait on me adorned in a low cut all-black cocktail dress

Solemn face with bedroom eyes

As she placed a bagel loaded with cream cheese

And layers of smoked salmon

Before me.

Strange kind of angel, I thought,

As if she knew all along

To imagine

Was the first step to

Having all you need.