On a rooftop in Brooklyn, one in the morning,
watching the lights flash in Manhattan,
I see five bridges, the Empire State Building
and you said something that I’ve never forgotten.
We lean against railings, describing the colours
and the smells of our homelands, acting like lovers.
How did we get here? To this point in living?
I held my breath, and you said something.
And I am doing nothing wrong riding in your car,
your radio playing – we sing up to the eighth floor
of a rooftop, Manhattan, one in the morning,
when you said something that I’ve never forgotten,
when you said something really important.
