Patricia’s New York
“Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness,
natives give it solidity and continuity,
but the settlers give it passion.” - E.B. White
This is no longer the 80s. The stressed, sultry,
and seemingly sensual hookers no longer line her times square
Crime's down, the streets are paved, and yet, she can't satisfy
The grid wails
Drive beats the hearts of her residents
It whispers tiny reminders of lacking net worth
in their ears: Make it here, make it anywhere
Sinatra and Jay-Z blare
She knows what she's worth. Pay every last penny
For a tiny hole in any part of her, and be relieved
to be able to stay another month. Accept her climate.
We all know she's bipolar.
Models and marble infest a part of her
Budding artists restlessly claim another
Incredible food for indulgent appetites
But, starve for her attention
Her earnest eagerness to welcome you
Is second only to her many attractions
that keep you interested for years on end.
Call her New York.
Girl next door innocence coupled with the
seduction of the cougars uptown. There to listen, yet
demands commands to be meticulously followed.
A lethal combination.
Where multiple races migrate. Hopes of a better tomorrow.
Mesmerizingly magnetized by the American Dream.
Aspirations asphyxiated by the smog, merely slowing
unstoppable desires.
Trains juxtaposing laborers and elitists
Taking the same path to different destinations.
Projects to penthouses, street corners to corner offices.
Brooklyn to the board room.
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