Come straight home after school,
Dad’s showered and dressed.
I ask him, sun bright,
if he’d like to take a walk with me.
A new coffee shop just opened,
Starbucks, does he want to try it.
We walk, slowly, hand in hand,
to 87th and Broadway.
We get things called Venti Frappuccinos,
which sound ridiculous but taste delicious—
and I don’t think about
who sees or doesn’t see
his AIDS face.
I just sip sweet sips.
Dad talks about all the big businesses
taking over Manhattan:
Tower Records,
Banana Republic.
How we’re living
in a changing city.
Then he says, smiling,
sun blasting through the windows,
and I’m alive to see it.