There's a time where children's laughter is carried by the pump's water.
Where the music floods all corners of nyc.
Where even the train is on beat.
The sun shines hardest in NYC.

You must excuse the radio silence,
"Necessity has me by the foot".
I question whether America hasn't fallen into timarchy;
The Titanpointe facility might be enough to convince me
the world's a stranger place at present.
We desperately need a method of politics
that depends on articulation rather than representation,
Something to foster a more intelligent society. I fear
strange and merciless times are upon us
which necessitate emissions control.

I think I’m too big for New York.
I can’t fit into its small spaces.

My world is so much bigger than this place

It will be time to leave soon.

From the overcrowded train cars
To the indifferent desperate distant eyes
Of every passerby
Cars bustling by the street corners
With nowhere to park
New York is not the place
For one to sit down
And just take in a view
And in this way
All things become fluid
They come in to our lives
And swiftly pass by
And if we get lucky
We can fix what has been broken
Or be another passing
Distant
Indifferent
Face
Waiting for their time to go
And leave New York City

Layers and layers and layers
of people, cars, buildings
the Big Apple
one giant parfait
loved by the rich
too expensive for the poor
a little for a lot
and the waiter smiles
fake and shallow
as he hands them the dessert
without them knowing he spat into it
and sprinkled it with the dust
of his bombed apartment on 64th
which lies in the past of another
bank
another office
another yoga oasis
another Apple parfait
for the rich

you want that tap tap tap as you walk
you got that fancy look on lock
so slip those feet right on in
cinderella with the ress and flawless skin
now all you need is a pair of heels
you're about to give everyone
all the feels
so find the pair that fits like a glove
because at the end when push comes to shove
it's the shoes on your feet
that are the beginning of love.

In the weirdest turn of events that day
As a cop toting guns and pepper spray
I gathered an urge to pen my first ode
In my lunch hour, before hitting the road

To sirens and light of my precinct's space
not a stanza wrote, yet my mind's apace
the pen's the problem; confidence recede
Pondered a visit to a friend, indeed

Thoughtful I'm moving, this old clue I'd act
on Brooklyn's pen thief; kleptomaniac
acquired from him, an ink dipping quill
of Huia birds, still boxed with its bill

Case solved; on the back of the bill it hints
"Dear Mayor, pen's for poems; lead's for thugs."

i wanna take the subway
i wanna take the train
to the end
of the
line

i wanna think
in anonymity

of how i see you
in the face of each
passing stranger
of how your breath sweeps over me
in the draft from
the black tunnel

i beg the calm silence of
time passing
to align my hopes
i hope the city can set me free
i hope it reminds me that although i am lost
i am unafraid