NYC
A karaoke carry all. New York night – black cloud blotting out the lights as it rolls down monolith canyon cement. We played in it like kids on a demented carnival ride. There’s always survivors, even of corner gangs and chance greengrocers near midnight. We admired our ragged selves that night, clothes were camouflage, we weren’t walking targets but sudden conscious citizens of the city.
The noise like a jungle amplified through brass trumpets a mile long. Traffic surge like clogged metal arteries. Bookstalls with humans gathered, sorting out ideas. Parks with grass beaten to death or behind high wire fences. Beaten down humans under walk-up stairs staring from sleeping bag cocoons. A coffee at the corner, newspapers.
In the early summer morning already everything is on fast forward. I get a coffee for sixty American cents and sit on a hydrant because there’s no city benches. People seem to jitter, few dawdle. There’s the scavengers zooming with their crazy piled-high carts. A cigarette or two later I notice the lintel of the doorway in front of me. Bas relief of a man with a quill pen. Take it as a sign of something. Take a picture and go home.
– 17 Aug 00 –