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Ode to New York
Riding the Subway
New York, oh how I love you.
How you shelter me from the rain,
With fog as thick as glue,
and running sewage water trickling down the drain.
I love the way you make me feel.
When you offer me a seat on the train
On a day when I have unbearable pain on my heel
With spit on the seat, I rather stand and get heel sprain.
Never worry, my plantar fascia—
The nice young boy won’t give up his seat;
Not even to the old lady standing from Asia.
Dragging him off of the chair would be a treat.
But most of all, New York, I love your scent.
Your sweet stench of B.O. and homeless piss,
If I had to leave, how I would resent
Not seeing your concrete majesty is what I would miss!