New York

Day 22: Today's RWP was a wordle, and we were encouraged to use one or all of the words in a poem. Here were the words: reverberate, rust, tomorrow, pepper, saffron, flinch, crow, emporium, squall, fierce, dizzy, tendril. I'd been meaning to write about NYC ever since seeing the Poetic Asides Day 12 prompt. Here goes:

New York

You never knew how well you could smell

until you walked these streets,

fresh ground pepper and saffron rice,

rain and urine,

incense and grass

all mixed up in a schizophrenic potpourri.

You find beauty in the oddest of places,

patterns of rust on light poles,

the magenta and green sheen of a pigeon's neck,

discarded fliers whirling

like dervishes in miniature squalls.

The reverberation of the approaching train

is as sweet as thunder on a hot day,

and you crow to your friends about

getting the last seat.

Everyone is fast and fierce

and it's two for flinching,

so you don't.

You make plans for tomorrow,

next week,

and five years from now,

all negotiable.

The days are an emporium of dreams

and the nights are living, breathing,

drawing you out with a million

tendrils of temptation.

You dance and lean in to hear

smiling strangers who touch your elbow

and ply you with drinks you've never heard of.

And when you make it home, you lie in bed,

dizzy and happy as a child

after a day at the carnival.