By FRANKY LIANG

Seven stops past Union Square,
I sat down, a table for one,
carrying nothing but a book.

Quite different from the jungle,
steel diaphragms, for an instant,
paused. Concrete vibrated no more.

Enabled by the jasmine blossoms,
I opened my heart to the rich
treasures of the bamboo steamers.

And with that I made my way back
to 14th Street, looking forward
to sharing this moment alone.