Illustration by Gisela Levy
after “Grand Narrative with Chandelier” by Matthea Harvey
He woke up to find his hats
were suspended in midair, hovering
in color order, full-price
above Fifth Avenue. It meant
he couldn’t count on us anymore.
It meant our little cameras could revolt,
flip front-ways & catch him red-faced
and askew. He looked down
and his shirt was outside-in.
His white shoes weren’t there.
We were shining them with black
polish and a brush made of rat hair.
We cheered when the superhero
tore his cape in the subway grate,
the cargo ships started to row backward
when we could distinguish his card cut-out
from the crowd & when the bus crashed
through the median he gasped with us,
smirks and sunglasses, thumbs on buttons,
raining down through hat-clouds & smog.
Anna Sugrue is a senior at Barnard College majoring in urban studies and sociology. She loves to write about cities.