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Maps

On Upper West Side,
the clouds traced maps in the sky.

The algae traced dark maps
in the East River.

The ocean traced maps in the sand
at Coney Island.

Over the Hudson,
the gulls traced maps in the wind.

The carousel in Bryant Park traced
music maps in the trees.

The building reflections held clues.
The sidewalks, maps of footsteps.

I looked for you everywhere,
but, in a few minutes,

all the maps moved and changed,
illegible.