I get a cinder in my eye
                                it streams into

        the sunlight
                the air pushes it aside
and I drop my hot dog
                        into one of the Seagram Building's
        it is all watery and clear and windy

the shape of the toe as
                        it describes the pain
of the ball of the foot,
                        walking walking on
        the strange embrace of the ankle's
        on the pavement
                        squared like mausoleums
but cheerful
                moved over and stamped on
slapped by winds
                the country is no good for us
there's nothing
                to bump into
                                or fall apart glassily
there's not enough
                poured concrete
                                and brassy
                the wind now takes me to
The Narrows
                and I see it rising there
                                                New York
greater than the Rocky Mountains

--Frank O'Hara (1964)