The 'New York' poems can be found in my collection of poetry The Future is Behind You. published by Selkirk Lapwing Press. www.selkirklapwingpress.webs.com
It can also be obtained from: www.scottish-pamphlet-poetry.com
NEW YORK POEMS
Touched down but still flying
In the city that never sleeps, that is never still.
Landed but still coming down
Over junior league size baseball pitches
Multi coloured doll houses all in a row
Each with their own America back yard.
New York cabbie style.
That is crazy, stop for no man
Or car, style.
ĎWhere you heading?í The chewing
Mouth asks in the mirror.
Ď Mid Manhattan, East 51st Street. í
I say as nonchalant
As I can muster as we swerve into the freeway
To a chorus of horns.
Shaken and stirred.
Blood coursing through my veins.
ME, NOT MY BRAIN
Jet lag opens the door to the cynic
And my brain, not me, is thinking,
This is not a city for the alone.
And then again, you can exist
Walking the sidewalk.
In a book. On the 14th floor.
But I would imagine
It would get to you
Being still, amongst
This tumultuous torrent
P.S to the above.
And me, not my brain, is thinking
Staring up at St Patrickís Cathedral
that this is where they mourned
Walking thru Rockefeller feeling like
The latest hick to take a bite out of the
Mouth agape at the reach to the sky
My hotel with its 14 floors suddenly seems
Like a basement apartment.
I walk and walk and eat and eat
Tiredness lifting, the energy of the everything,
Pushing and pulling me down 42nd street
Feeling like Gene Kelly in On the Town.
Iím the groove.
BREAKFAST AT PAULOíS
Coffee, pancakes, apple pie,
Cream piled on cream.
If youíre on a diet donít
Have breakfast at Pauloís.
I had a coffee and croissant
Minus the cream but plus the butter
Every morning I was greeted like
I had lived round the corner
All my life.
Postcards on the wall, one from soaked to the skin Scotland.
Told the taleóĎWeíll be backí
A picture of Giuliani with Paulo
Himself, smiles and handshakes
After feeding the firemen and police
And anyone else
That day like a not so distant rumble
Is ever present.
Maybe thatís why theyíre so glad to see
You at Pauloís.
You came back.
Iím coming home after
Chatting with ĎFriends.í
Inspecting a parade of Ferrariís.
Not breakfasting at Tiffanyís.
Definitely dancing down 42nd Street.
Iím coming home after
4 Bucks a Bud at Alís bar.
Shoeshined outside Grand Central station.
Searching for the Ďrealí American football.
Iím coming home with
Feet worn to the bone.
And not caring
For when allís said and done
This is my kind of town.