numbers, e-mails, rosters

New York at noon
Streaks of men in black and briefcases.

A guy playing sax
Oh, how his long fingers carress every part
How it creates a white space
How it blurs the noise outside
Stillness rests upon the city
My ears hurt, my ears swell

Numbers, e-mails, rosters

A teardrop on my shoe
The bubble breaks, people pass by
In the streets of New York City.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s