AFTER A REALLY LONG DAY

The voices of celebrating strangers are precious to me. 
The faces of women trapped in rooms with captivating men are precious to me. 
The rats playing on the subway tracks are precious to me. 
The guileless beauty of neighborhood children is precious to me. 

Bless my nephews with their small hands on big music. 
Bless my sister and brother-in-law for having them. 
Bless the people on the platform at 2 a.m., heading home dead sober, reading the terrible news. 
Bless the little trees sprouting from nothing, from stones, from cracks in the pavement. 
Bless my angry father who never learned how to love. 
Bless my mother for teaching me. 
Bless the young exterminator smiling in the doorway, donning gloves. 
Bless the hard-working kids finding words for feelings, laboring to understand and be understood. 
Bless the old-timers celebrating our every stupid move. 
Bless the tropical rain unleashing itself on New York City, leaking through my roof. 
Bless the woman taking the time at the end of a long day to tell me something good. 
Bless the friend who listens to Al Green while cooking me dinner. 
Bless the wild mint, quiet orchid, ancient sycamore, crossing deer, lonesome shark, elephant, dog, fossil, dragonfly, iguana, barnacle, the watching sea, the trembling tern. 

Bless my soul. 
Bless my soul. 
Bless my soul.