New York World

New York World

A scrawl and a scribble and a jot here and there;

I’m penning away like I don’t have a care.

Yet my mind is ablaze; my prospects enhance.

“New York City,” I croon, as I rock and I dance.

The subway prods on, undeterred, unafraid.

The tracks are but water, this transit to wade.

Soon the churning allays, the finale in sight, 

With a clunk and a hiss and a well-wrought fight.

Exhausted, it halts, gives a yawn of its doors.

The world just outside, with its bustle, allures.

The doors tip their hats as we travelers embark

Through the station, up the stairs, to the light, out of dark.

I’m enthralled; I’ve made it, no doubt, no exception.

I sigh a sweet breath: “Mmm - smogged to perfection!”

I throw my head back; I pulse with the scene.

My eyes become tangled; too much grandeur to glean.

“Let me soak it all in! Let me revel in this,”

I say, mesmerized by the chaotic bliss.

Buildings, unceasing, some but mere skeletons,

Some gaudy, some meager, some shedding their skins.

Now and then, window panes begin calling their roll.

A faint “Here!” can be heard, drowned out by a lull.

It’s as though they’ve decided to all phone in ill,

Like glass crossword puzzles with spaces to fill.

But out of my trance, I emerge, vastly floored:

The Empire State Building, standing poised, self-assured.

With his pronged cap in place, the suave giant gleams,

So close to heaven, he risks bursting its seams.

Such a dapper old chap, if I must admit.

“He’s so sharp,” I announce, “he could challenge my wit.”

But as things tend to go on a quite stifled street,

I am soon whisked away, other places to meet.

“Taxi! Taxi!” I cry, with a wave of my hand,

Hoping passersby guess that I’m from this land.

One rudely pulls up, a brief dirge of its horn,

Its tattered seats tales of the people it’s worn.

“Times Square?” I inquire, as though it’s old news,

Trying my hand at indifference, dodging childish spews.

In just moments, I’m there; I’m bathing in lights, 

These great man-made stars, making frauds of the nights.

Adhere to the adage that less may be more?

Times Square beckons back, “Well, that’d be a bore.”

But adrenaline can only not sicken so long,

Then my heart longs for simpler, craves a quieter song.

“I’ve got it,” I cheer, and I can’t help but swoon.

“Central Park, here I come! See your darling face soon!”

Another hailed taxi, another coarse ride,

Another hand at composure and nonchalance tried.

But, oh! There it is, music to my eyes.

Central Park, so unrivaled, in much more than its size.

Like a classic novel’s comfort in this high-tech world,

The intimacy of page turning, something tangible unfurled.

For amidst a great city so dead set on bustle,

A reprieve proves a treasure, an escape from the rustle.

To settle on down and revisit what’s known, 

To see nature thrive in a city of stone. 

And that’s Central Park; it gives life to the old.

It refuses to leave life’s classics untold.

Yes; New York has it all; I suppose I’m in love.

In regards to its perks, I’d check “all of the above.”

That day as I left, my mind reeled and twirled,

“New York City?” I asked. “Nah. New York World.”