They didn't know that
her heart was perpetually on vacation,
stuffed
between the pages of Austen and
Murakami.

Yes, they loved her
autumn smiles, her conversations, even
the jazz ensembles of her
clothes. But her heart
was locked in the New York Public Library.

The distance was far
too great, the risk far
too much.
After all, this was the place where Paul
Varjak told Holly
he loved her
and all she did was look at him.

a tiny apartment for two, in a big city full of lights and luck. we can share things. pizza. a bed. cuddles. goodnight kisses. i’ll make you tea every evening, and serve you the newspaper every morning. sunday mornings spent in bed are my favorite, pancakes with extra syrup, coffee with extra cream. you hate coffee. i need it. rainy mornings rushing to work, i’ll give you a kiss on the cheek to keep with you through the day. open your lunch box, baby, there’s a surprise inside. a note that’s scribbled in bad handwriting, “i love you, more.” friday nights in, old films and dusty records we pull out of boxes. we can dance around the moonlight to songs of our childhood.
long car rides, shoulder kisses and sweaty palms. waking up the neighbors downstairs. i’ll kick you out on the couch, just to wake you up in the middle of the night. come back to bed. i’ll read you my poems in a sleepy daze. the little things, they’re all i want. with you. only with you.

New York City is where
I most like to be.
It’s as noisy as a
Room full of bees.

When I’m there ,
I walk like a bunny.
Fast and quick hurrying
In the streets

People talking and
Walking.
Horns blasting and
Clicking.
The smell of gas
Filling the air.

Oh New York City
You are the best city.
You are even better
Than Italy!

Hustle and bustle of work,day and life
steaming Starbucks and choppy high heels
bumping into other's shoulders
oblivious to the almost's from taxi drivers to schooling kids

But when the
sun descends to make room for the moon
the city's potholes
treasure every drop
of a drunk stupor
savoring burning tires of zooming cars
passers-by basking in the midnight lights

That's New York City
It never sleeps.

| new york city - m.m |

Losing someone you deeply cared about from your own actions is a thousand times worse
Than when the Taxi guy rips you off
Both of these things have occurred in my dwelling
And I have to say it’s not recommended

When I went to New York
I felt something change
Though the feeling was foreign
It wasn't so strange

When I stepped on the ground
And picked up my feet
I felt I was meant for
Those rough city streets

When I was with you
I felt something less
We used to be natural
Before we confessed

But now I have found
That we too have changed
We used to be natural
Before we were strange

it was the
summer
of 13

when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave

amped
the tenderloin

slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen

packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers

their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End

getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society

Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....

the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps

America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers

a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed

Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels

washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe

Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters

millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast

Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours



9/8/13
NYC
jbm

Snow
Settles on
My aching
Breaking
Heart.

I'm stuck
In a world
And inside a time
That's long
Gone.

I see
The map
Of the world
I keep looking
Home.

I think
This compass
Broke-
I have nowhere
Else to go.

If I could sail
The Mediterranean Sea
Maybe I could find myself
In Pari for free

Wherever I go,
Will I go
With my whole heart.

Im still stuck in
Small town New York.

Ashes to ashes
As mine slowly fall
The dead cannot speak
But if listened, they'll call
And I reek of the dead,
And the dying, myself,
As it goes to my head
That a life is a death.
I'm standing alone,
As alone as I'll die,
Regardless of those
Who will doubtless stand by
And the buildings and windows
That I never built
Relieve within me
Some extraneous guilt.
See, born as we were,
By extension was I,
Without obligation
To those who have died
We live in the cities
We technically rent
But the landlords, now dead
Can't collect all this debt
So the headstones and pillars
Don't represent me,
But there's one in the future
To which I'll be freed
So Manhattan, Manhattan,
There's stones in my eyes,
Reflecting old dirt and a rat in the sky.