Is this a city?
             -It’s a city you see?
It’s just a place,
               -it’s a place to be.
Growing up here,
                   -was hard you know?
Comin’ from the streets,
                           -you know you’re in the know.
Ain’t nothin’ real here,
                           -unless it’s made from dough…
Realize your dreams,
                     -if you make ‘em so,

And I’ve been ready all these years; yeah I’m ready to go,
Now I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!

This is the city,
                 -it’s the place to be.
A place of dreams,
                 -a place of des-tin-y,
Growing up here,
                   -made me ready –complete,
Soul in the know,
                 -no I can’t be beat,
This is the city,
                 -and it was made for me.

My heart is on fire and I’m ready to go,
So now I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!

This is New York,
                    -this is the place to be,
It’s made of money baby,
                               -yeah it’s a fan-ta-sy!
Came from the ghetto,
                        -that’s no place to be,
Make your move, make your mark,
                                             -come on get on your feet!

My soul is filled with knowledge; laying down the flow,
My heart is on fire and now I’m ready to go,
Man I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!

Only way is up,
                   -ain’t another way to go,
New York is the place,
                          -for your soul to flow,
I’m laying down tracks,
                          -‘cause I’m ready to blow,

Soul is full of rhythm, so here I go,
My heart is on fire, I’m so ready you know,
Man I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!
The only way is up, ain’t another way to go,

I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!
I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!
I’m headed to the top of the Big Apple Show!

Baby I’m on top of the Big Apple Show…

o' cinereous city  
give to me your blacktops
where on hard white asphalt
impenetrable, grave and square

we play hardscrabble with toughs
who huddle in groups
hanging keds that swing in the air

a pitch of blank gray
a field of kicked stones
ashen, barren
the end of confusing friends

but still a place to go
and run and run and run
when all at once, filled with children laughing, crying, jumping, stumbling, climbing, bouncing,
announcing life in eternal screams - - let me play!

I traded ***** pixels, sold my soul
for a bathtub full of this cold city water,
to let it dampen the dissonance between the long talks, screams, and silence and
wash my memory clean.

I severed what I just ****** could not untie and floated north
to be lifted to the sky-island rooftops and above and
finally feel light.

Instead, my skin is crumpling like trash and
still I find my fingers crawling down my throat,
depressing,
the only way I know how to release
all the things I swallow whole
and let sink without bubbles.

A burning sadness
Crept up from within me
Like the cigarette you just finished
Its smoke engulfed me.

We had the usual date.
“For old times sake,” you said.
Dinner at Applebee’s
And a movie at 42nd.

Interstellar was on the plate
Our first heavy movie together.
It mushed our already tired brains
But like always, we analyzed it after.

Remember Valentine’s at Kip’s Bay?
We watched the Lego Movie.
At one point our combined laughter
Was all that echoed throughout the theater.

But we’ve also ridden a Central Park carousel,
And ate bibimbap at 35th.
You’ve felt at home on my couch
While I fell asleep on your tummy at Brooklyn Bridge Park.

I have these and more to take with me.
And when you hugged me goodbye tonight,
This scorching flame burned brighter,
As you whispered into my ear, “I’ll miss you.”

"Are you from around here?"
You would have rolled your eyes at the city sky
Muttered something about Westernization
No stars in the sky
But baby, here they have the lights.

A man asked about you today
He said "and your lover?"
I told him you were long gone,
Feared the exposure of city lights
New York doesn't love me like you do
I said "my lover is a runaway fugitive"
Anything but the truth.

Lean out and contemplate the Empire State.
After all, there's nothing else left to you.
The spider-web paths of the city
Branch out too often to form the whole
picture in your head more than a few
stems out.

Where do your lost hours go?
Is there a heaven for the good ones?
The ones you spend reading Harry Potter
in Spanish?
As if it's really so much better than reading
trash like 1Q84 or Plato's Republic
for 1200 page-intervals of excess language or
A bunch of questionable assertions
backing up logical conclusions on the most essential questions,
Respectively.

When I sit with the bright light in my eyes,
it triggers the breakdown of melatonin molecules in
my blood,
Among other things.
Will this restore my Brooklyn Majesty
in swells of lightwave tides
Or will it lack the broad spectrum necessary
to push my half-developed form out of the tidal pool
to make a swim amongst
frail men in shark suits?