I'm wearing my favorite scarf

And a long chocolate brown coat over black tights
And I'm squinting up and the schedule
In Grand Central Station
On Saturday morning

I'd bought a map of the boroughs
From a man on the corner of Broadway and fifth avenue
Our frost-tinted breath spiraling upwards
Tangling in the fairy lights

I never asked his name.

I also
Never asked the names
Of the hundreds of nine-to-five time machines
That swoop past me
In the glow of chandeliers

It used to be
That the sun shone in to Grand Central Station
And cast rays
From the windows to the polished floor

Today the buildings are so tall that they catch all the light for themselves
And leave none
For the faces of strangers.