And his front, too
So I am back. Actually, I was done with the seasonal gig a week ago, but I had a neice down from Ohio and the other niece over with her, so there were alot of Uncle Jim duties to be performed. Or preformed. Or deformed.
Anyways.
I'm only here to unveil a poem I had been intent on writing for a half a year already, and just got around to writing today because I am home feeling a little under the weather and one of my fellow bloggers (who shall remain nameless) dropped a tid-bit that inspired me, for whatever reason, to get off my duff and write. No, wait. Get on my duff and write. Whatever. Commentary welcome.
YOU SHOULD GO TO NEW YORK
Because the lights are bright on broadway, because
The Flat Iron Building juts out of the ground like a gas gauge
Registering empty. Because Central Park springs up
Like something that shouldn’t be there, and then suddenly
Makes sense like a fairy tale halfway along.
You should go to New York.
Because no one is no one now here
Because no one is anyone on these sidewalks to nowhere
Because no one’s going anywhere you’re going
But everyone’s got somewhere they gotta be
Because that one time you catch an eye and a smile
From some stony little New Yorker
You get a charge that runs up your leg and your spine
And takes your breath away.
You should go to New York.
Because you’ll just be walking along and it’ll strike you
That it’s fun watching all those big yellow taxis flock around
And it’s important to eat a hot dog off a cart
Before going in to look at the Renoirs
And it’s an absolute matter of life and death
Getting a pastrami on rye with mustard from Katz’s
On a Thursday night bristling with possibilities.
You should go to New York.
Because when it’s hot, there’s no place hotter
And when it’s cold, there’s no place colder
Because the way the wind whips down the Avenue of the Americas
And makes a hard left at Broadway
Will snatch your breath away and put it right back
In a single, swift stroke.
Because it breaks your heart, and because it makes your heart
Swell with joy.
You should go to New York.
You just should.
Anyways.
I'm only here to unveil a poem I had been intent on writing for a half a year already, and just got around to writing today because I am home feeling a little under the weather and one of my fellow bloggers (who shall remain nameless) dropped a tid-bit that inspired me, for whatever reason, to get off my duff and write. No, wait. Get on my duff and write. Whatever. Commentary welcome.
YOU SHOULD GO TO NEW YORK
Because the lights are bright on broadway, because
The Flat Iron Building juts out of the ground like a gas gauge
Registering empty. Because Central Park springs up
Like something that shouldn’t be there, and then suddenly
Makes sense like a fairy tale halfway along.
You should go to New York.
Because no one is no one now here
Because no one is anyone on these sidewalks to nowhere
Because no one’s going anywhere you’re going
But everyone’s got somewhere they gotta be
Because that one time you catch an eye and a smile
From some stony little New Yorker
You get a charge that runs up your leg and your spine
And takes your breath away.
You should go to New York.
Because you’ll just be walking along and it’ll strike you
That it’s fun watching all those big yellow taxis flock around
And it’s important to eat a hot dog off a cart
Before going in to look at the Renoirs
And it’s an absolute matter of life and death
Getting a pastrami on rye with mustard from Katz’s
On a Thursday night bristling with possibilities.
You should go to New York.
Because when it’s hot, there’s no place hotter
And when it’s cold, there’s no place colder
Because the way the wind whips down the Avenue of the Americas
And makes a hard left at Broadway
Will snatch your breath away and put it right back
In a single, swift stroke.
Because it breaks your heart, and because it makes your heart
Swell with joy.
You should go to New York.
You just should.
posted by Bobo the Wandering Pallbearer at 12:52 PM
4 Comments:
Loving it and am even more excited to one day experience New York than ever ...
Okay, you're convinced me!
Akinins and Shari together in New York. Now that sounds like trouble.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I read your poem
but I don't think I'll ever go to New York, but if I do, it'll be because your poem drilled into the very core of my travel bug and layed eggs like that wasp that lays eggs in spiders and then your poem spawn will hatch and eat my travel bug from the inside leaving nothing but an overpowering hunger for New York.
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