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To Marissa Ranello's previous piece 

Staten Island Ferry

Rough water, 
damn boat keeps a rockin'. 
Stomach in knots. 

"Shine, shine, shine." 
Man wants to shine 'em, 
I say no, "white sneakers!" 

They sell green hot dogs 
to Veterans, and flags 
to foreign visitors. 

The punk rock kid 
pukes into his hands. 
Motions for a napkin. 

Two business men 
in business suits 
kiss passionately. 

Old barefoot black man 
picks at his toes, 
gives me a wink. 

In turn, I rub my cleavage. 
Make three wishes, 
but only one comes true. 

The man beside me 
stops masturbating 
behind his NY Times.

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