>New York City

Posted: November 6, 2010 in POEM OF CITIES

>She Dreamt Of New York City
 Michael Biondi 

She says the streets talk to her,
calling her name just before the curtain opens.
She can hear the movement amongst the crowd;
impatient legs and busy mouths.
Smells travel into and throughout the theater;
nostrils flair at the scent of hotdogs cooked over the aged
concrete slabs of sidewalk.
She says the aroma makes her hungry…
hungry, not for an appetizing meal,
but for the chance to make this constant dream
seem real.

Cue the music. The crowd goes silent;
patient legs and paralyzed mouths.
She stands there, still and in position.
The curtain opens.
Hit the lights. The crowd disappears.
She says she’s blinded by the brightness
as the music causes her body to move within the melody.
She continues to dance like no one is even watching.

The music sounds distorted.
The crowd begins to fade away in the midst of flickering lights
as the curtain goes up in beautiful flames.
The walls of the theater collapse,
leaving her to dance in the middle of the busy streets.
Taxi cabs fly passed her using their horns as a round of applause.
People stare and smile as they vastly walk by.
She continues to dance.

The streets are now her stage
and the skyscrapers surrounding are like a theater.
There’s constantly a crowd;
Impatient and busy…but they always watch.
She says she will use the cities lights to blind her,
and use the stars to always find her way back home.
But for now she will just dance within serenity,
because her dreams are now a reality. 

Lost In New York City
-Jane Van Doe 

Someone’s grandma on a bench, I passed her everyday,
sharing the crumbs she’d begged for with any friend or stray
Once I heard her mutter someone killed her kitty.
I don’t want to get lost in New York City.

All of the things she used to love, were written on her face.
Laughter and song were everything, another time and place,
a place where in her dreams, she still was pretty.
I don’t want to get lost in New York City.

Grandma wasn’t on the the bench, when I passed by today.
Her bundles and bags of dreams were there, but she had gone away
and I cried, because I knew she found her kitty.
I don’t want to get lost in New York City. 

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