Friday, July 23, 2004


Evening in New York

I'm not in Chicago anymore
City of Algren, City of Sandburg
The big shoulders on the make
Hog butcher on the lake

I'm in New York
City of my father's birth
Where concrete has replaced the earth
It's evening in New York

Someone's random disconnected rage tears a yellow pay phone receiver from the rest of its body which now lies dismembered in the gutter of Park Avenue South,
The maimed communication device stretches towards the evening sky while in repose against the iron lined curb, reaching towards the evening light, desiring to crawl to Madison Square Park- if it could only grow legs- the wires, its muscles, torn and bleeding...

It's evening in New York
The young and those trying to stay that way run on treadmills, pedal on one wheeled bikes in trendy pricy health clubs, going nowhere faster and faster as they try to look good for their next job interview or trip to the singles bar, sizing up each other in their urban keeping up with the Joneses, simultaneously contemptuous of each other while filled with self doubt, superior inferiors accomplishing greatness while questioning themselves, reprimanding themselves about how they got away with their huge mistakes without anyone noticing for one more day... 

It's evening in New York
Orange-red light glows on the side of the Flatiron building in the sunset, I cross Fifth Avenue to the beautiful sounds of a woman folk-singer, sweet music rises up to meet the city sky and gets bitch-slapped by a taxi's horn...

My favorite happy hour haunt welcomes me, a beautiful barmaid greets me with a cold pint of ale, baseball on the TV without sound while music plays the day's strife away, done with the subway until tomorrow, it's time to go to my inviting wife, to curl on the couch, to the joys of bed, love, comfort, drifting to the metropolis of dreams...

It's evening in New York

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