For Dave Harrity
There was no election, no voting
booths’ black curtains, the metal
of rings sliding closed.
No appointment or inauguration
indicate the moment he had become
the mayor of the city inside his life.
woke one morning with keys
in his hand, spent the day jangling
every lock, residents looking up
from their televisions & ticker tape
say, So, you’re the one. He soon
found himself driving the neighborhoods,
of public housing, the power
to condemn or endow like a perched bird
his shoulder, past high rises,
empty warehouses, smokeless
of forgotten industry. All day
he drove, gained a vision for the city,
to raze or remake—
children’s parks, the river cleaned up
a refracting countenance of moon,
something for the people inside him
stroll alongside come summer nights.
He could already see it, could hear
music on the restaurant verandas
where everyone was dancing.