She Finally Ate The Big Apple Without Me: Revolutionary Napkin Poem Lament

She and her mom
(who I’d tried for forever
to get to Manhattan)
called me
from Katz’s deli,
ordering pastrami
on rye,
and,
what?!?

They’d gone to Central Park,
she, daughter,
New York experienced,
leading;
former wife,
naive,
in the giant green.

“What park is this?”
she’d asked.
And when my daughter answered:
“Central Park!”,
she said:
“I don’t know what I’m feeling right now!”