ODE TO NEW YORK

I awake in the mid-night only to find light again within the arcade of New York City.
How beautiful the darkness lurks onto the pavement of a thousand and a thousand
more lights. How beautiful the streets are of Bowery, Tribeca, Chelsea, 5th avenue;
Then send me off to Williamsburg. Let the damp winter full of ice ignite our withered
hearts; Whom drank whiskey at Noorman’s Kil down to the brew of Randolph’s beer.
Let that drink bring us spring like a mad man dancing in the street calling out his
Juliette down by her window; As to let her hair down like Rapunzel so he could seal
her kiss. The limbs of New York grow much more than anything, they are the limbs of
the gangs of New York, the hustlers, the artists, the fashion, the freaks, the rebels, the
workers, the dancers, the flesh, the live flesh of a million people. The limbs of battered
walls, the limbs of bar basements and clubs, to the Up and Down’s to Electric. The
bay of the buildings and streets, Grand Central Terminal. The Empire State building
The Statue of Liberty; a pointed concrete giant touching the sky declaring independence.
And you keep walking as if it hardly exists; For you have been here so long. So long, it all
seems like a small gesture of lady New York and how you fancy her when you leave.
And how you walk all over her dreams. The elegant Metropolitan Museum of Art decadent
neoclassical composure right on 5th avenue, near central park long green trees that line
the side walk and you wish and dream of fairy tales. You reminisce Breakfast at Tiffany’s,
moments hanging like a shadow at every corner of the streets and their vibrance even in
the still-silence of the empty night that chases its blindfolded amusement. I think of all the
culture of the city, the movies, the Howl of Ginsberg, the Cruel Intentions, Vanilla Sky,
Eyes Wide Shut. Serendipity ice cream New York. Subway New York, performers New York,
the brownstones, gothic revival architecture New York, the art deco , the beaux-arts, the
baroque New York. In the dirt, the efflorescence of New York, invisible fun and laughter
ethereal in its truth. And how we all awake in its wonder, and how we all burst in its lassitude
and leisure. How we psycho babble down the streets, with our worries or our coffees, or both.
How we embrace the race and chase of the city. How in spring Mulberry seems so still and
St. Patrick’s Cathedral towers high against the sun or the way it looked in winter, like a humble
pastel street. I can’t in my highest dreams describe all the intricate details of this magnificent
city, that lights your each cell on fire, you will live for the night, you will live for New York, you
will live, for its life will never end. It is the infinite lady of the night, the vampire of your nightmare
and the angel of your desired fantasy, it is all a great city can be. And it is simple, and it is so
nice you have to say it twice.. New York, New York.