that lady laughed like a Pillsbury doughgirl into the black coffee cold, she was passionate, after profit
earmuff taxis and hotel neon lines
i know manhattan is an island made of metal and money, an entire empire built upon desire
and the subway is a steel drum concert
asking us to imagine all the people
imagine? they’re right in front of us
a million on, a million out
and we cascade and escalate through tunnels to save time, which is all the time, and time is money, how else would we have this city without an abundance?