By Alan Katz
I’m on the roof
with a ski hat on
midsummer night, hot
beads of sweat cross my clavicle
baby monitor next to my flip-flops
strong enough signal if it stays right there
on the edge of the roof hatch
my hand’s inside a dark green piece of plastic
a lavender-scented dog poop bag
quiet evening, no mosquitos
Freedom Tower’s spire stands up
behind brownstones
I’m smoking a hand-rolled cigarette
construction workers on the roof
across the street make a false assumption
smile knowingly
think I’ll wear sneakers next time