Of all the things I do poorly, poetry is the one I persist with the most and achieve the least success. Bear with me.
My Weekend in New York
Low down dirty clouds break over the East River,
from the FDR highway the city is a hard frown.
I find a parking spot on Grand Street. It’s the best parallel park I ever did in my life.
In the Donnybrook Bar, the model-slash-waitress plans a pin-ups and perverts party
or how about a pin-ups and pirates party?
The actress playing the witch in MacBeth says
“Everyone thinks I’m Jewish, but I’m Roman Catholic. Very Roman Catholic.”
Slurring by night’s end at the fast staff of the Mexican place
a burrito, a taco, a glass of water
to help stave off the pain that’s waiting. But sure enough, next morning, a large part of me is missing.
I’ll go find it.
I walk and walk through the lower east side, drop in at Katz’s to meet somebody
I wait ten minutes in a line, only to learn I don’t know the system. This isn’t the cutter I need.
My bagel, lox and cream cheese will be served by the last cutter down the way.
When I sit down to eat, there’s a huge family in front of me spread out over two tables
Dad is pouring a glass of root beer for each person.
Kids are biting into sandwiches gaping wide with meat.
Smell the grease from this heart attack city.
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April 7, 2009 at 4:36 pm
sobertea
This poem captures all of the things that one notices about New York when looking at it from an outsider perspective. Being an outsider (and frequent visitor) myself, I can relate to almost all of the things you mention. I particularly like the way in which you suggest that the city drains you, or that it has a tendency to take precious parts of you: “But, sure enough, next morning, a large part of me is missing/I’ll go find it.”
Or did you just mean that you were hungry? Anyway, nice work.
April 7, 2009 at 4:45 pm
Laurence Miall
Many thanks for the comment. This weekend, I think New York gave more than it took away, but perhaps if I’d stayed more than three days, that might not be the case. I would be unable to sustain that same momentum. At some point, I’d need to do something very boring.