New Yorkers

Like vultures with talons out
They scramble for the last seat on the subway
The last H&H bagel
The last Marc Jacobs bag at a sample sale

Flying through the streets
On neatly tailored wings
Claws tucked in silk
Hard, sunglassed eyes stalk their prey
Those elusive yellow taxi cabs

Mating calls join the chorus of the streets
Blackberry shouting and kosher deli ordering
Heels up, heels down, clickety-clack
On the gum-strewn pavement.

At sundown comes the stampede
They emerge from steel caves to
Jump on loud grumbling trains
Fold wings down and read the Times on slippery seats
Rush-rush, clickety-clack
The New York vultures burrow into Pottery Barn nests
Handcrafted beds with lavender scented sheets
At dawn, they fly again