Lost in New York

The beauty of New York City
Is in getting lost
Blocks and blocks
Of old and modern structures
Juxtaposed in checker boards
Blocks and blocks
Of faceless faces
Mingling and disentangled
Estranged and disenchanted
I walk unaware
Of the steps I have not taken
And those I have taken
Yet unaware of my environ
Pensive and disoriented
Avoiding contacts and hunched

The beauty of New York City
Is in getting lost
In myself
As I journey pensively
Unaware of richness and poverty
Kaleidoscopic colors and depressing blandness
Friendly strangers and strange friends
My legs synchronized
Not frozen but not hot
My hands ensconced in padded leather
Mildly tingling from sub-zero temperature
As I search through sheaves
For the solution on one
That holds the code
To restore my equilibrium

©2001FrancesOhanenye, all rights reserved.

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.

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