When my nerve wore down,
I was assailed by simple little sounds:
hammer clangs, sirens in the park,
like I never heard New York.
Blaring brakes, trapped trucks
honking horns, hissing buses stuck,
shrieking trains barreling berserk,
like I never heard New York.
When the room grew loud,
I learned to stand in back,
behind the crowd,
dam canals with cork,
like I never heard New York.
But when the walls gave way,
I had to flee, I had to back away
as the whole town barked,
like I never heard New York.
A few points of warmth in a vast, confusing cosmic sphere, all alien, yet somehow familiar - like being shielded from the cold rage of an unknown night by your childhood bed.
A place to ever so softly drift a while and dream. dfectiveDtective
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