It starts as a plunge down the Valley,
leaving misty marshes behind
along the MTA’s snaking trail
till the beast turns and coils
into the nest of Grand Central.
Fumes as incense curls visitors’ noses
as they drop their offerings
of clattering change, abandoned litter and only God knows what else
rolls into the rails and trash.
The city greets me with familiar yells,
a dull roar of traffic and sirens,
lulling me into a commuter’s fugue state.
Here, all but one of my faces falls.
Here, I am simply… a New Yorker.

I don’t want this peace to end.
The hum of the city,
comfort of holding a rehearsal binder a bit too tight,
judging cafes for their over-priced coffee
and eavesdropping on park benches.
I love the routine of practice,
playing songs on repeat,
walking down 7th Avenue with a song living
inside every breath, my every step.
I love the feel of moving forward,
always to someplace or someone new.
I love the side quests
of writing in the park,
locating a quick bite,
or running into a stranger who can answer
a life-long question in just a minute or less.
It’s as though I’ve finally became awake.
How else can every breath feel new and refreshing
even as the city bouquet quirks my nose
on every block?

Eventually reality beckons me back
to return to my daily routine
and habits stuck on repeat.
I enjoy the last sips of my coffee,
perfectly anonymous in a crowded park;
the most interaction being two people asking
to borrow chairs from my green table.
It doesn’t matter – my time here is short
and I’m more than happy to share
the warming day with new characters.
Soon enough I’ll arise and leave
carrying the last of busy calm and midday sun
to return back north.
Back to where I can actually see some constellations.
But for now…
for now I remain as One
with the City.