"Where are you?"
she texts me as I park
across the street from
the Orthodox Jewish place
a block up from the street
where she lives,
my Google map app
on my cell phone
directing me to an address
that is not hers,
my tapping in the wrong address
I come to a massive brick building
out of the 1920s that has stood here
above the Lincoln
Tunnel nearly 50 years
before the first shovel lifted
the dirt to build the last tunnel.
"Where are you?
Why are you not here?
Are you coming or
not?"
I scratch my head and think
maybe I made a
mistake
and ask her to resend
the address
just to make sure,
realizing only when
she does
I'm at the wrong
place and
need to repark many blocks further north,
passed the historic water tower
and the supermarket
and the liquor store
and the Chinese take out.
"Where are you?" she texts and
I , with fumbling
fingers text back,
"I'm almost there."
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