☀ Today's Poem: "Greenspan" Bill Carty

Wanted something, lost it,
then found it in the yield curve,
sensed the future’s plotted swoon

or swag, one lone drunk sipping
from the mermaid fountain,
dark rush of clocks

come to coerce evening,
that misnomer—show me the day
that really ended at the level.

I view the graph from above.
It’s a line now,
last red streak in the sky

before some recession settles
beneath the concrete benches
of the esplanade. It’s cold.

A couple leans on the rail.
Are they taking a picture, or looking
at a picture they’ve just taken?

Orange vesters clog the path ahead.
To be safely seen or out to sell?
I want to know exactly what

I’m staring at. Neon blue sign
in the window of the vision clinic.
Song from shop speakers as I pass,

one of those gold standards in which
love must have been invented.
I’m down here below the city,

above water, climbing into the arcade
where I refuse to make a purchase.
I’m not carrying anything home tonight.

No one I know is sick enough
for balloons, or if they’re sick,
they’re not telling. Of course,

the answer’s always flowers.
Who wouldn’t mind some life
in this room the leaves blow into?

What do you call it? Some say foyer,
but it’s nothing so romantic, just one door
with another door beyond it.