The One in the Flower Gardens

sitting at an overlook in the flower gardens
that surround the cloisters in upper manhattan,
the silence is only occasionally broken by scraping steps.

they climb the staircase ahead of me, at right.
they make a single circuit of the low, stone, perimeter wall –
giving me a wide berth – and descend the staircase once more.

often they pause once or twice,
taking a moment to photograph the land and water spread below them:
the land bordered at its every edge by sprawling tall city buildings.

a young couple ascends the staircase into the bright sunlight.
stepping onto the broad flagstone expanse,
the young woman tells a story to the young man.

as they make their circuit, she tells him of her dumb friend
who had been trying to relate a complicated concept to her:
a concept that she smirkingly implies her complete understanding of.

she explains the enjoyment she found
at hearing her friend’s clumsy explanation of the subject.
they titter together as they descend once more into darkness.