Line count starts at the title. (Oh, let me go back.) First, the traditional title serves as an amuse-bouche of the poem, a compendiary taste of the lyrical feast to come: for example, Robert Lowell’s “Skunk Hour” promises skunks and delivers skunks. However, in the conversationalist trope of Postmodernist poetic aesthetic, the title is the first line of a poem and is to be read first, the first line is read as the second, the second as the third, and so forth. The title is the first breath of narrative, and an author encourages his or her readers to read on—a rhetorical trick of unadulterated authorial intention as he or she strikes his or her first strokes to the page. James Schuyler breathes his first breath, “Dining Out with Doug and Frank,” as this promise of this narrative. Through the first several words, a rhetorical analysis suggests that the ambiguity between converging and diverging definitions, as well as being attracted and yet straying from narrative, demonstrates the isolation or fortitude one can feel surrounded by water in the middle of Manhattan.