Part 1 in a 3 part series of short poems written during my two years in the rotten apple…
New York—
When my baby left you
So did your glow go
You lost your shine
I could long again to see you through the stoned, surprised eyes of a fresh-out-of-Palookaville tourist
But never again through those of a jaded wannabe or ain’t-never-been-never-gonna-be Brooklynite
I can be in New York, but not a New Yorker
I love your mythology, but not your reality
You can be a part of me, but never all of me
All because my baby left you.
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