New york is a ****, a man once told me.

First you see beauty glittering in might

your heart beating in the arms of the moon.

But then as your eyes adjust to the sight

and your fingers separate day from noon

you can see the feasting rats dancing with

junk fueling lives with means to escape

suffocating on an old stripper's ***

hidden beneath the city's golden cape

Then, you hear the sax chant from Alphabet

dispersing the haze of the burning tea

rising above a poet's final set

and though there are other places to see

there is no where else, you would rather be.