New York City

I chewed on a watermelon Starburst

Queuing up for a concert,

this young girl gave it to me with a bunch

of flowers.

I never knew how kind New Yorkers

could be and how reminiscent of Spring

they could feel.

I guess people have lied to me.

And as I walked in the streets,

my nostrils were terrorized by cannabis,

the scent so loud and untamed,

yet cinnamon is in my brain.

Why cinnamon in August?

Though, I saw a Bath and Body Works billboard

introducing their new Halloween collection,

the Vampire Blood bottle so cold and dull

in the heating soil and boiling sky,

it caught me off guard.

Why wait for Fall when it's only Summer?

And I almost ran into a man searching through the trash,

the scent so pungent, so vile.

So many go through them,

transport them.

I wondered, why?

Some carried the black bag in a cart.

Who could I ask about that?

As the night fell, the sirens were like a lullaby.

Oh, how I love it.

It's so soft yet so loud and it whines,

it cries but with pride.

The air still hot and heavy,

I go to sleep and feel an odd noisy peace.

I wake up, my skin so sticky,

as though honey has just melted on my skin.

Then I remembered the taxi ride from Queens

to Manhattan.

It was warm, but the fresh breeze reminded me of Paris.

It was as though the air was downloaded here

from a bad code, a glitch,

the game of life where universes collide.

I believe in it.

I find similarities in everything I see.

And the hot dogs,

the food trucks,

they play Arabic symphonies

in bold, uninteresting colors with logos quickly created on Canvas

or found on Google Images,

copied and pasted.

The important thing is the food.

Five dollars for a hot dog,

ten bucks for meat over rice,

confirmed Halal.

And the people have no time

to think of what to eat.

So many hold iced coffees like a prop.

Nobody walks holding nothing,

and somehow I feel they hold their destiny.

While some may feel nostalgic

for a foreign land where nothing ever happens,

one man told me this was the best city,

the city that never sleeps.

And I believe in it.

The skyscrapers felt so intimidating

the first time I got here,

and the silver train of the subway

was decorated with the American flag.

I thought to myself,

'Wow, this country loves itself.'

Fifth Avenue is just flagged

in bright colors

with a narcissistic flair.

But as I took a ferry to Staten Island to see Miss Liberty,

you know, I thought of all the people who came here with a dream

on a boat to Liberty.

And isn't that what we all want?

Pure liberty,

New York City.