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About Me
- May
- She is the Metropolitan Museum of Art, with a hint of MoMA and the Whitney. She is Walt Whitman's "Myself" in "Song of Myself." She is an incomplete stanza of a finished poem. She is the subtitle at the bottom of the screen of a foreign film, spelled wrong. She is the low E string of a guitar. She is the G chord on a piano. She is the Tube, the NY Subway System, the T, the Metro, and everything in between. She is one of the grains of sand on a beach, anywhere in the world. She is the needle, injecting ink into someone's skin. She is the bubble racing from the bottom of a pint of Guinness. She is the Flat Iron building. She is the imaginary film in your digital camera. She is the musty smell of an old book you found in the back of a dusty bookstore. She is not one but two twins of the Gemini sign. She is the middle line at the bottom of the peace sign. She is the "you" when Paul McCartney sings "All you need is love." She is her. No one else.
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