IN THE ABLUTION

In the ablution
of ambition

of several summer
shaves and showers

your beard
still waiting for you

on Central Park West
with mirror

and bagel over jalapeno
and cream cheese

fixing her dyed red hair
eyes glued on 9/11 mourning

of her friend Andrei
who came to all of my plays

off off Broadway,
Frisco, Boston,

eating a Russian belintz
cheering me on

as our names fell over
on his last computer screen

the first plane
did its thing

and he was through
with political correctness

his old man said weeping
at the memorial.