2/3 train, 72nd Street to Clark Street, April 4th, 2015
Some women have it. My mother did. It is a way of being glamorous in New York City. You are put together, elegant – neither too dressed up or too dressed down – and you look like someone, like you belong to New York City. You dress that way no matter where you go: to Lincoln Center or to the dry cleaner. And that New York City thing is not superficial. It runs deep. It affects the way you look, speak, stand and respond. I was not wrong. Starlite had it and she wrote about it: about loving New York City.
Yes I am an MT Girl
You ask…..what’s that?
Mass Transit. I rock and
roll as the train strolls,
I see people, I hear sounds,
souls stirring and scents
abound. I sometimes wonder
where everyone is going or
coming from and find myself
fascinated by the variety of
languages spoken and the
garb worn.
The smiles
The frowns
The sleepers
The snorers
The singers
The dancers
The dreamers
The lovers
All a mass and blurry
trip. I love this city as
it is my home. No matter
when I been or gone, I
feel a certain restlessness
and emptiness that can only be
met by the hopeless eyes of
this weary world dreamer.