I watch the Hudson and look across at Jersey in lit fashion as choppers fly over and lovers stroll-by and skateboards roll and cars cruise along and blunts are smoked and talk of eateries in The Village and drinks later-on and words spoken into microphones…cellphones…some to themselves….and a crazy on every corner…..I watch the Hudson….

I look at the East River and into Queens where a Pepsi sign glows and egg rolls are made and Indian food is delivered to  cute couples staying in for the night and a glow shines off buildings and the bridge is packed and red-lights are ran through and waters seem calm…but all is not…..I look at the East River…

I take the 6 train up to the Bronx…
where cash will be made for illegal efforts…where bodega owners are on the take where PA buildings loom over parks in disrepair…where Hunts Point is being sold-off to the highest bidder…..where Arroz con Pollo is still five bucks…..I take the 6 train to the Bronx…

I see the art museum in Brooklyn shining a light in the night where jazz is listened to and the Hep drink craft beers and Williamsburg now looks like Wicker Park and many are still neglected and they always will be as America goes on and on and on in celebration of what…I see the art museum in Brooklyn….

and I notice the hookers on Staten Isle…and the junkies and the cops patrolling the docks and the Statue of Bigotry and cheaper rents and yes…an hour wait for another ferry as I notice the hookers on Staten Isle..

I watch the Hudson….it’s muddy waters…it’s mixing with other bodies….I watch the Hudson…I watch the Hudson…

just watch…the poem will come….