When I was a teenager I worked downtown and spent a lot of time standing by the bakery on the corner waiting for the bus to come. Waiting for the bus is a great time to people watch and imagine things that would be interesting, like an old man breaking into a song and dance number or inanimate objects coming to life.

In 2005 I came back to Syracuse after living out of state, excited to try and capture the hometown I'd missed in a poem. I spent the day walking around downtown, writing about buildings and ghosts and trying to discover secret places I'd never noticed before. I found myself at the corner of the bakery again, waiting for the bus and laughing as I saw a group of pigeons and imagined them reaching for their wallets and boarding the bus. A poem had found its way out.