I don't belong here, but I wish I did.
The water thrashing in a dozen dangerous directions.
The breeze: Invisible, crazy, sweet caresses.
I don't know the lights, the landmarks; life
Inside the rivers, more alive than life elsewhere;
Twenty-four hours expressed, longer, louder, better.
I yearn across the water to dakota lights.
In the name I live the long agos,
Feel the city in my veins and leave it in the rear-view window,
On the bridge the traffic shuts behind me like a gate.
Manhattan Visit by Judy Schilling