a poem for new york city(even though she doesn't have the time to care)

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—the city is harsh

she spits out blackened teeth that
litter the sidewalk, waiting to be collected
grabs you by the crook of your elbow
and fills your lungs with nicotine and the smell of sewage and pastries
on canal street, she tempts you with watches
croons like a thousand sirens
luring you into the back room of her sea caves

the city is hungry

her belly churns and regurgitates money
and she's full but
she's never satisfied
children climb up her ankles
and fill up apartment complexes
and when they can't move any further
their parents lead them down the sidewalk
to mcdonalds and then to the park if there's time
arms swinging to the sound of pigeon wings and car horns

the city is a choir

one man cycling down 8th avenue sings in
spanish at the top of his lungs
parisian women at the zoo
converse about the pretty royal-blue bird
with their little one who asks "quoi?"
(that's all i can make out with three years of high school french under my belt)
a man selling knick-knacks on the brooklyn bridge shouts
like he's preaching a sermon to the impervious masses

"take a look"
"take a look"
"take a look, New York"

and you almost want to heed him
to purchase a drawing of the black panther or
caricatures of morgan freeman
or kristen stewart or barack obama
to plaster on your wall at home

the city cannot help you

she rears her ugly head and stares you in the face
as someone riffles through your trench coat pockets
watch your step
don't get lost on the A train

the city does not lie

she shows you all she is
see the homeless people asleep on her stoops and steps and alleyways
cradles their bodies in her cold arms
it's the best that she can do
she'll evict you
she'll convict you
she'll kick you down
and curse you out
and she might even kill you
but she'll never ever tell you that you don't belong
in her open embrace

With apprehensive respect,

                        RB

                                                 RB

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a/n: so i just got back from nyc to my small town. i wrote this as soon as i got home. it was a new and...interesting experience. i've been there before but this time it was different. walking the streets felt like falling down a waterfall. everyone looked ready to kill a man.

it was great

this poem was just a bittersweet love letter to the city and all who live there. i don't believe i would ever live there but i'm not ruling out cities necessarily. i need one a little more my speed (slower, that is).

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