In nyc, we stalked fishes
in filets of sounds: delivery
engines & ashy doors

clapping shut, vendors
knuckling fin & silhouette-

shaped words into salty
expectations. My daughter

& I walked down a couple
of  slim-bricked blocks
that smelled like snapper

& afro sheen with no afros
in sight. On snaggletoothed

streets, we double-took the wet
alleys where things jumped

off the hook like smart seafood
before lunch. We parted

the perfect & abundantly wintered

streets. My daughter said, I know
these parts like a tired pianist
resting on her bench.