A Short City Prose

There is a time, just before the sun sets,
and the sky over Midtown is perfect
and nearly orange.
All is quiet as I find my spot
to retreat on the roof of a building on Lexington,
the Eastside of Manhattan.

I can hear the sound of the wind.
I can see the buildings in the distance
and view the bridges
that link the Manhattan to Brooklyn.

Or, I can look uptown
I can notice the top of the Citi Corp Building,
which has meaning to me,
or I can face east
and watch the East River flowing through.

I look out at the new buildings under construction,
which will eventually tower over me to inherit the sky.
I see the needle atop the Empire state Building
and watch it puncture the belly of the clouds

I think of so many different things here.
I think of the places I’ve seen
and the people I’ve known.
I think about the things I did.
I think about the crazy times.
I think about the good times and yes,
I think about the hard times as well.

I stand up here to tell my secrets to the winds
and speak my mind to a God as I understand him.
I tell myself that one day,
I am going to find myself
and I will be exactly where I am supposed to be.
(with you)

At night, the City takes on a different appeal.
I can see the windows of neighboring buildings,
which I view like tiny T.V. screens
with their own shows and their own characters.

I look out at literally millions of different lives
with millions of different stories
and I think of the branches of people we meet,
and how miraculously, we see each other
in random places at random times
for reasons unbeknown to us.

Everything happens for a reason

But ah, this City, she is mine.
She is beautiful,
like a queen I saw in a painting
drawn by a Cuban artist with eyes
like tiny almonds and a face as sweet
as Her Majesty’s love.

Ever stand on top of a building
in Midtown to watch the sun go down?

Trust me, it’s worth everything you can think of.


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