There Are No Shortcuts in New York

Over the hum of some distant appliance
I hear the city below
Waking up to the alarm
Of a high pitched car horn.
Letting me know
That yet another “I own the road taxi driver’
Wants anybody in front of him to move out of the way

Reluctant to part company with his fare
He takes 5th all the way down to Central Park,
Preferring to blur into a Hendrix haze
Creating the picture perfect postcard setting, standard for .75 cents tourists
Who need to write, “Wish you were here”?
To people they’re glad aren’t

Have nice day!

There are no shortcuts in New York.


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