Post Parade Apocolypse on 5th Avenue

police milling around, restless, barking at pedestrians to stay on the sidewalk,
we're dazed by skyscrapers and open skies without any cars to keep us
off the streets, we wander out into 5th Avenue, amidst Puerto Rican placards and trash
dervishes spinning up towards the sky, I wear black
suitable for the lack of life here, the cement, the few trees, the sun-baked
plazas, the glass, the M&M's dancing across gargantuan screens.
tomorrow I will breathe in art and trees,  I will hear singing voices
in a music hall, a sense of home away from home.