orchard

i filled 
my pockets
with peach pits--
pushed them into
the warm asphalt 
with my thumb--
yes this is time
square
this is where 
i will start
build an orchard
& you will tell me 
there's nothing
to be done with
all this light--
that the city eats
peaches
all through the night
& i'll laugh &
tell you that
it eats apples--
only the really 
red kind--
horn will honk 
early the next morning
when the first of
the trees takes hold
in the middle of the cross
walk & tourists will
take pictures & think
that it's an installation
art project--
a cabby will 
lean out the window
to curse
the thin trunk 
of the first brave
peach tree--
she will grow wild
from the blaring
of the lights--
she will learn
to swallow neon 
sun-- her fruit will
grow rounder than the
moon
& the people will gather
beneath her to 
stop-- 
to
stop
& her roots will begin
to crack the
sidewalk & 
a young boy
with a blue backpack
will be the first 
to eat one
of her fruit-- 
each peach
the color of the
sunset wrapped around
the statue of liberty's 
waist--
he tastes dusk--
sweet, 
musty, & slightly
bitter 
he knows what to do
with the seed--
pressed into
the street--
the orchard began as
a phenomenon of
eating-- of hunger for
fruit--
the people left their cars
in the streets
to watch the peach trees
grow--
two burst through 
the McDonalds bright 
golden arches--
another smashed the windows
of the M&M factory &
all the while the people
began to notice
that the peach trees 
were consuming
all the was left of 
the sound of
the city at night--
fruit swelled with
the blare
of a bent bent trumpet
wailing from
the subway underground
where the peach tree
roots 
entangled around
the lexington
ave express-- 
EXPECT DELAYS
the voice over
the loud speaker
repeat & repeats 
& repeats
i'll walk out from 
my hotel
& fill my backpack
with peaches--
if any are bruised 
i'll just eat them
right then-- sitting
on a bench with 
a city full of people 
taking in the 
orchard we all planted
i'll tell them i'm taking
it with me when i  go
& even the cab drivers
will 
beg me to let them stay--
when the world
is dark-- & i mean
all the way dark--
& the city finally sleeps
after 100 years of light
i will walk out again--
push the trees back
into the street--
put the peach pits
back into my pocket--
take the next
bus from port authority 
back to kutztown 
& the city will
wake up
with the 
taste of dusk
in her mouth--