We walked down the famous street absorbing the fluorescent confidence of theatres and billboards, of all artistic and not-so-artistic types.
“So this is Broadway,” she said, eyes flickering light from a blinking sign.
We had gone to see the Statue of Liberty earlier in the day.
Funny that one of the most iconic American symbols isn’t American at all.
“She is French, ” she had pointed out to me, “a gift from France.”
The Parisian actress and singer wanted to see Chicago before flying tomorrow.
Naturally the request had come fashionably late, so here we were looking for rush tickets.
Within running streams of black suits and clicking heels on pavement, are static queues circling squares and blocks.
Art students and cheap tourists among those in line.
We had been waiting for ten minutes when she announced, “I don’t want to be here anymore, too much.”
There was a brief sad glimmer of a glance around the hustle and bustle of eager faces ordering vinegar fries for the grand opening of the booth, before dark sunglasses dropped on her face.
With a flip of a scarf, hair, and heel she strode through the crowd and stuck a hand out over the street.
At least she seemed to like the yellow taxi cabs.
My attempt at a “New York School” poems which the NaPoWriMo website describes as having a “conversational tone, references to friends and to places in and around New York, humor, inclusion of pop culture, and a sense of the importance of art.” So, yeah. I can hear the city and the accented voices in my head but it doesn’t translate onto paper very easily. And I have never been to New York so my imaginings may very well be the stereotypes presented in romantic comedies. So I made it about someone seeing the city with those stereotypes in mind. Pretty fun, would be cool to do something similar with Toronto as the inspiring city.
Thanks for reading,