Visions of New York

31 Jan

———

Visions of New York

 

The city has become a titan

a relic

of the past

The city I remember no lounger pounces,

but only dreams its comatose surrender;

The city I remember

had red faced drunks asleep on public buses at two in the afternoon

had crafty addicts coyly collecting ravaged cans

for rewards measured in nickels and nods

The city I remember

had lovely women with messy hair and wild eyes

had boastful men who hid their wives like scars

had memories all on its own

The city has grown thin

like a terminal case with chemically-eaten cells

there is still skin, but no geography along the belly

The city I remember

was a long skirt and the smell of coffee

was a swastika on a misguided punk goosesteping along Astor

was an underground effluvium seeping, thick, above 

was an unwanted sanctuary

an abortion of childhood mistakes

a girl becoming a desperate mother

a boy becoming disillusionment

a staircase to nothing much

a lovers tryst that suits regret

I wonder where she is in this new century

this new plateau for the acrophobic

I wonder if she lives again

I wonder which city holds her door

———

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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