This is the city. My apartment on the ground floor,
Sees sun rays, car lights, bird flight and people's eyes
Stream in. I smile back. Some people blush, or
Look away quickly. Some smile back. The guys
Squeezing by in large trucks nod their heads
That they made it okay. The children wave--
But they wave at the art mannequin dead-
Center on the window sill, watching them leave.
People are glad the mannequin stands
For so many ordinary things. They pretend
They watch him catch raindrops in his hands
Or stoop to pick flowers--wooden bent.
In this way we refrain from menace,
Offering, instead, neighborly goodwill,
A mask of shocked penitence--
Caught. Unguarded. Curious and real.