a fall drive

hurtling along the expressway, up from
the south shore of long island
it came into view as i ascended upon the rise
around kissena ave.
first the worlds fair, and i felt as if i could
carry the globe myself.
it was a beautiful sun day Saturday.
and the city had audrey hepburn, and
george peppard written all over it.
it is never tiring, the city, the way she looks.
timeless really.
under the river i went, popping out in the middle
of the quiet weekend noise.
Midtown never looks as good,
as it does on a beautiful fall weekend.
people strolling along the avenue, holding hands,
walking dogs, sitting, drinking coffee
morning jogs.
the pushcarts roll infront of their
vendors along the streets
and i think of pea shooters and intense battles from
a book of my childhood.
i cross the rock inbetween the hudson, the east river the long, thin finger like
rock that whitman sang his praises about so long ago.
and down beneath the other river and out into
jersey.
i leave the city behind, pressing on
into the heart of the garden state.
i day dream of love lost, and love yet
to be found. i dream of dances among
candle lit evenings, alone, the two of us.