New York City

Every iota of New York City is
constantly poised for a picture.

Not the lush green and
ancient egg whites of London,
whispering sweet histories
of elegant composure;

But dry, sculpted, clay-red angles,
shouting out from up high of
a greater new;
dark hidden pockets and nooks
bursting with dusty steam;
the traffic of bodies, souls,
electricity and sound,
waving and illuminating in
razzle-dazzle synchrony.