to appreciate the pace
which I take for granted
I miss the endless day light
of times square.
I'm not used to seeing the stars.
at night I see black
blacker than I have ever seen
the sounds piercing the nights
fall foreign on my ears
unknown, confusing.
primitive.
you say you can't imagine it
my way.
country mouse and city mouse
empty streets
and silence, that deafening silence
that keeps me awake at night.
quaintness wears thin
all too quickly.
"walk a little slower,
talk a little lower."
talk to me about home
make me remember
places different than here.
give me steel and glass
give me cement that sparkles
noise and street signs
the smells of construction and hot dogs
give me seven different languages
in seven different blocks.
the roar of the subway
identification of timid
(and not drunkenly happy)
squirrels, dive bombing pigeons
large subway rats
flies and water bugs.
doormen with intercoms
All Visitors Must Be Announced.
numbers and letters
elevator buttons
inner courtyards of black tar
dark colored awnings
planted enfenced trees
strategical grass
Please Curb Your Dog.
bodegas, korean delis
smelly cab drivers
with no vowels in their names
tap dancing rockettes
telling me to buckle up
Duane Reade, Ray's Original, H & H
take me away from this alien life.
