I step outside, call out to one
hail it, beautiful

sunflower. My grandchildren love
the sunshiny color too,

the optimism in the bold
way cabs announce their presence

pull over cockily
to the curb, let you know wordlessly

I’m here and I’m going to pick you

up, just you.

And I’m going to take you
wherever you need to go.

They were my saviors when I was young

and alone, and New York was mean,

and I was careless of myself.