we love new york

tall buildings, bright lights,
billboards high in the sky.
you claim to love this city
and everything it stands for.

you love the taxi drivers,
white knuckled in bumper to bumper traffic.
eyes narrowed and songs from the 80’s, 90’s, and today playing.

you love the people,
snarling animals gathering at a watering hole.
cups overflowing and whipped cream overdose.
war cries in the streets and squaking for rides.

you love the music,
“artists” testing out new computers.
add drum and bass here,
press control+s and loop it;
music genius.
give a kid a laptop and a turntable.
he’ll be sure he can DJ.

you love the night scene,
a city that never sleeps.
skeazy men bathe in cologne
and are ironically underdressed.
looking like you just woke up takes talent,
takes effort to look effortless.
the men love the easy women
who would walk miles in stilettos.
leg trauma never looked so sexy!

you love the transit,
every underground train visit is a trip,
a trip to the zoo.
each animal, escaped from their cage,
running rampant in the seats.
call animal control.

you love the stores, blind to the prices.
“$170 for a sweatshirt? seems reasonable!”
you walk with those bags in your hand,
seeing them as a symbol.

you’re what’s wrong here,
you big tourist.
walk around with an opium smile
and shopping bags, super glued to your fingers.
submit yourself to this city;
make your stay eternal like Thoreu’s virginity.

maybe then will you become rock solid,
your soul like the Brooklyn Bridge.
you’ll have a smile stapled downward,
in a parade of cynics each day,
marching in a line.

maybe then you’ll realize
you’ll have to love your own city
and I’ll write you a disclaimer:
“enter at your own risk.”

i’ve tried to escape this place,
so smelly and overcrowded,
but I can’t seem to leave it.
it’s the quicksand of the north east;
the harder you struggle, the harder it is to leave.