By Anonymous
the not-busy streets of new york city and their not-glow of life
i read about you in books, alive and bursting at the seams
and just like i imagined, you hold so many little people in your silver hands
though i heard no one here ever slept, the whole of you and your beehive
are caught in a slumber i cannot rouse you from
i am learning to navigate through the organized streets
step over another piece of a building (or a person)
care to see the sights with me? the crumble cake pieces
of a proud green statue that still stands sideways at the bottom of an ocean
maybe the skyscrapers scraping the concrete or a square where all the clocks stopped working
the food is described to be delicious but i am served
beans in cans which are the only things to remain in your fully stocked grocery stores
your subways are said to be efficient and i can tell that
the skeleton of the train can take you anywhere
because we are in the city of dreams!
i wonder what all the little people are dreaming of in their sleep
maybe of the next day, the day after that,
and the not-busy streets of their new york city