The Doorman

What would it be like to live
in a building with a doorman
some pre-war Co-op
Upper West Side,
tiny re-done kitchen
high ceiling
original tub and vanity,
Street noise eight stories below
Amsterdam Avenue
garbage trucks and taxi cabs
crashing, banging, honking
street noise
greetings, obscenities, curses, shouts,
What would it be like
for the doormen to know
log in their brain
on a doodled paper tablet
my coming and going
with whom I left
with whom I returned,
Store names on shopping bags
the West Side Market
the Apple Store,
Was I wearing an overcoat
carrying an umbrella
ironed blue jeans and a wool blazer
humming an old show tune
wearing an I-pod
texting on my smart phone,
What would it be like
to have eyes following me
from the lobby out to the street
every morning, every night
every time I got out
and return with someone new,