New York Glass

New York

On a bus somewhere
between home and forever
we slowly, with traffic-bound bullheadedness
crawled through New York,
both the state and city.
Once again I wondered
who could live here
as I stared through polarized transparency
at blinding sun
reflecting on miles of glass.

On a bus somewhere,
I was glad
to be seated in air conditioned wonder.
All the walking masses live and die
On these busy streets.
A rube I am;
A wanderer in a comfortable seat;
removed and judgemental,
Reflecting on miles of glass.


New York