I have not torn my hair in a public place
Or worn a dress the size of a dime

Once I spoke in a French accent, but it sounded
Lithuanian

I have not denounced my family
or let the back of my hand slap a cousin's cheek

I have not found the perfect strand of pearls
Or made a gift of sudden beauty
I have yet to consult
the Fortune Telling Chicken
in Chinatown

I admit a fondness Jack Daniels and Cosmopolitans
And the ease with which Arkansas wrecks my
my quick New York speech

On nights when stars brightly pattern the Brooklyn sky
I search for your hand and find a drift of wind.