New York…New York

Living in cardboard box
off 5^th Avenue
Nine floors high
without much of a view

Bagpipes on a Saturday afternoon
Cyclists fill the streets in June
People in Harlem
dance to their own beat

The sounds of the trains
travel through the pipes
Thud! A pair of heels hits the floor
The neighbour’s home. It’s 3 a.m.

There’s Shakespeare
in the Park
and mandolin players
on the street

Big screen
Pay TV
Some movies
you can watch for free

Wicked on Broadway 
Cathedrals everywhere
Bookstores by the dozen
Museums aren’t scarce

 A heater in winter
a cooler in summer
Now, if only there was a regulator
we could use to adjust the weather                                                 

Cartier, Saks, Versace, Gucci, Armani too
The NBA Store
Of course! The big glass Apple (store)
And a whole lot more

White walls, wood floors, mirrors
A New York loft beyond compare
I still want more
I couldn’t care less

 Radio City, Rockefeller,
Trump Tower, Bergdorf Goodman,
Bryant Park, Madison Square Garden,
The golden bull, a stroll along the Hudson

The movie stars
walk the same streets
as non-famous folks like
you and me

I know these streets. I love them too.               

But, I’ve never been here before.
Is my mind playing tricks?
Has my memory gone cold?

There’s light and sound
But echoes of hollowness resound
Does this city have a soul?
Or is it just me, lost and alone?

 Pics courtesy: Noora D’Mello

Averil Nunes is a freelance writer and editor, who’s currently taking life one verse at a time.