In that humid city heat, I am laying and listening to the car horns and sirens
and the sounds of construction that are New York City.
And how old I have become.
To have fallen into disrepair and gained weight these last few years
To have gone so grey
To worry about the sugar in and pressure of my blood
As I apologize to my feet which have carried me over miles of Manhattan sidewalk
So this was different.
Not our usual choice of vacation spot.
And I think that if I had chosen a quiet forrest I would be happy
But among the shouts of workers and whistles of doormen hailing cabs
And the hiss of air brakes and the chatter rising from crowded sidewalks
Where even on the hottest day heat and steam come through the grates…
And all the different smells.
And the carts and venders
And old buildings with histories.
As we wander down this street and that one.
I think I could have gone to the 9/11 museum for the day and it would have been enough
To have stretched my heart in that direction and to see how a city this large chooses to heal.
And observation decks at high buildings. Taking picture after picture.
But I can see how the whole city has aged… and now safer and cleaner than ever
A kinder and gentler New York
And hear facts and anecdotes from all the aspiring actors who lead tours for tip money.
Today, I sleep in. (Not really sleeping. but laying here…)
Writing. But not editing
Thinking of my tired feet.