The Old Neighborhood

Enter smiling
silk scarf tied below the chin
elevator operator greeting you by name

Take long strides
on Greystone Avenue
your fragrance randomly dropping its petals

Ignore the trucks, the whistles,
the squeaky breaks, the man on the Camel billboard
who blows perfect smoke rings all day and all night

Keep walking
until you are safely home
in red lipstick, seamed nylons and 1955.