Be apart of it

A pretty city filled with petty people

with purses and broken hearts.

Do you ever look at the skyline from a different

borough and wonder about death and how

many people are having sex across the water?

A souless place promising something

shiny and glittering gold with meritocratic pomp

and circumstance. A mirage for gentrified

coffee and dying corner delis.

The subway line rattles in the sweaty underground,

jolting as the forgotten jeer, instilling fear

into passengers on a path to being happy.

With no money, they aren't proud

enough to call a taxi.

Water kneaded into renound dough eaten by roaches

and rats in overpriced walk up flats. Along the East

River fat geese and gulls stand on pebbles and shattered glass,

green from beers discarded.

Spoiled views concealed with shuttered

windows siloing daddy's money.

Honey, I can't keep up.

Systemic issues like steam rolling off

the gutter. It smells like piss and it's everyones

fault except those blamed. When the guy

with the bike laughed as he prenteded to jump

in front of the train, no one looked up.

I spent a sweltering lonely summer looking at the absence

of a window unit and hoping to eventually sleep.