The city
etched her face
into a pie chart
wedges of a nose,
mouth,
eyes shadowed,
each an escapee
from the big
picture,
a radioactive half-life
not counting
piano bars
hidden beneath subways,
black keys
minoring in months,
until Central Park
at a water fountain,
she
leaned her mouth
close in
for a single sip
as her parents stood
on either side
raised left and right
hands and lifted
her feet
from the ground