Some Days (for New Yorkers)

Nadine Mozon

 

 

 

Some days I say (FRANTICALLY)

 

Gotta get outta this city!

Not another crowded train

broken down in a tunnel

No more stepping over homeless

as I walk home in the rain

Can't find seat on subway platform

Cuz I'm in somebody's bedroom.

Always waking up some woman when I need the ATM

cuz she's sleepin' at the door!

Still I'm dodging pools of vomit on the subway station floor.

Yet another white chalk outline of slain body on my street.

Had enough of woman crying on the F train at my feet.

Not the legless man again, on his wheel board rolling by,

Collection can around his waist, which is his whole body's base!

How do I live in such a place???!??!?

 

 

      BUT THEN...SOME DAYS...(RELAXED AND EASY DOES IT...)

      I ride my bike 'cross Brooklyn Bridge

      ...saunter through Botanical Garden

      ...sit by lake at Prospect Park.

      Some days...I start from home on Lower East

      and window shop my way uptown.

      Weave in and out a zillion stores

      and then begin to chart my ground.

      Start drifting west on 51; hit Central Park at  59;

      the trees, the leaves, the carousel

      the zoo, the kids, the air,

      the boats and all the music, musicians everywhere;

      the artists painting what they "see,"

      the show at Met, the bikers/skaters rolling free.

      Above the park: The rhythm of life!

      Shop all along 125,

      a Wilson's meal at Amsterdam & I-5-8

      On days like these this city's great!

      And then I stop and grin and say...

      ...some days I say

      ...I think I'll stay