The blue sky is Sunni.
The white clouds are Shia.
The sun is happy.
The shops are crowded.

The planet is healthy.
The oceans are healthy.
The oceans have recovered.
The economy has recovered.

Long ago, when I could sleep the night through
Without having to get up to pee,
I’d wake at a very early hour in the French countryside,
In my bed in New York, with sweet birds singing oui-oui.

Those days of having a car in the city
And looking for places to park,
And drinking martinis at lunch,
When New York was a lark

Of drink and anger and glamour,
Are gone now—and New York is so much better!
And, incredibly, nothing has got worse!
The rapturous casket does an entrechat leaping out of the hearse

Into the blue sky over Broadway—which is Sunni—
And the featherbed summer clouds—which are Shia.
The homeless may be loony, filthy, out-of-tuney,
But the shops are crowded.

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