The rain came down Chelsea's high rise corridors
in cold blustery gusts
pushing their patterns of reflected light
against confining curbs.
And buses braked,
adding color to reflected light,
as passengers braced, unfurling umbrellas.
--- And then,
as if on wings, one flew up 23rd Street, Chelsea's finest,
Only to crash across from Saint Vincent de Paul,
seemingly abandoned, in part broken,
now sheltering its own share of the street.