Tuesday, May 26, 2009

new york

He's reminiscent of night time New York
wears labels like streets signs
smells better than home before pollution claims the scent
eyes like skyscraper windows
that sparkle like stars on a backdrop of unfulfilled stereotypes
he pretends to be cool
pretends to be the gold paved streets that I see in my
hand-me-down immigrant dreams
but i know the truth
know that no yellow brick road will ever lay beneath his feet
i know how to find his pain hidden among alleyways
his own light 
scares him
so i'll let him borrow some of mine
and in the event
that New York City is rendered unconscious and
we are thrusted into darkness once again
i'll make sure he still shines
cause he is indescribable
so i'm reduced to 
rambling and slight stutters
syllables and words that sound like what they mean
oooh's and aah's
yes's and stay with me's
have all garnered new found respect in my vocabulary
he just looks so good
doesn't compare me to Bronx streetlights
but just like the Queens he adores
he spends his nights with me
knighting me humble, caressing the crown of my head
traces hands along my abdomen 
confusing me with handrails
plays music on the ribs i borrow from him
like subway entertainment
so i offer him pennies for his thoughts
and body heat in exchange for potential
cause i want to ride this out
take it to the end of the tracks
and as he pulls in and tags my station
i want to conduct him a symphony
of gunshots that sound like breakbeats
he can be as dangerous as
tourists claim this to be
the streets have no rules
so i should proceed with caution
should i proceed at all
and all i want is to write my intentions 
into his genetic make up
so he can't make up excuses for running
cause his lips seem to take more than just my breath away
he's taken our past
and kissed it away like childhood injuries
no wonder i call him my boo
reverting back to childlike ways
i just want to play hopscotch on his freckles
and swim in the space created between curve of neck and collarbone
place quarters on his chest
and convert bellybutton into wishing well
he just looks that good
almost forbidden
like breaking curfew in the city of insomniacs
where happily ever afters
are best kept to 3am rendezvous
the same time New York City breathes
and slightly snores
chest elevated, raising and dropping
to his heartbeat
he ends up being the pulse of the city i'm comparing him to
the soul of the streets mimick the soles of his sneakers
life in his veins like traffic
i want to map his idiosyncrasies on my skin
carry his lips on my spine like backpacks
cause he
in all his subdued flory
reminds me
that in a city of millions
all you need is

1 comment:

traumhaus said...

you don't understand...
how much I love this.