On Twenty-third Avenue great white sharks
line both sides of the street.

On Twenty-fourth double rows of polar bears
bury their black noses head to tail along the curbs.

Twenty-fifth is almost impassable
from a lane of Moby Dicks

while white moths and blanched butterflies
fall from a heaven of Puritans

and the sidewalks make slush
from doves, storks, a brief flurry
of albatrosses, one pink-eyed pigeon.