“I’m bored,” she said.
“You ride that boredom long enough,” I said,
“It turns into enlightenment.”
“Huh?”
We sat. Sat until the boredom turned to hunger
Or lust. Or sadness
Because you know, they’d just torn down
Part of St. Mark’s Place.
“Not the one building …”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Aw, shit.”
See. Her body found something sad
Her heart and stomach
Seized on it like a spider seizes her lover.
Not bored.
The body knew what to do
What it had to shed
Not bored anymore
Problem solved.
Beauty is Imperfection 
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