Some Days (for New Yorkers)
Some days I say (FRANTICALLY)
Gotta get outta this city!
Not another crowded train
broken down in a tunnel
No more stepping over homeless
as I walk home in the rain
Can't find seat on subway platform
Cuz I'm in somebody's bedroom.
Always waking up some woman when I need the ATM
cuz she's sleepin' at the door!
Still I'm dodging pools of vomit on the subway station floor.
Yet another white chalk outline of slain body on my street.
Had enough of woman crying on the F train at my feet.
Not the legless man again, on his wheel board rolling by,
Collection can around his waist, which is his whole body's base!
How do I live in such a place???!??!?
BUT THEN...SOME DAYS...(RELAXED AND EASY DOES IT...)
I ride my bike 'cross Brooklyn Bridge
...saunter through Botanical Garden
...sit by lake at Prospect Park.
Some days...I start from home on Lower East
and window shop my way uptown.
Weave in and out a zillion stores
and then begin to chart my ground.
Start drifting west on 51; hit Central Park at 59;
the trees, the leaves, the carousel
the zoo, the kids, the air,
the boats and all the music, musicians everywhere;
the artists painting what they "see,"
the show at Met, the bikers/skaters rolling free.
Above the park: The rhythm of life!
Shop all along 125,
a Wilson's meal at Amsterdam & I-5-8
On days like these this city's great!
And then I stop and grin and say...
...some days I say
...I think I'll stay