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New York MAG
It’s the way the autumn rain
flings a rhythm on the metal roof
of the taxi, an insistent knocking
against my skull like fingers
peeling meter off a poem
that makes the brown water
coursing down the city drains,
match the motion of tires
as it glides over cigarettes and concrete
in a rush of static,
while pulsing beneath wet coats,
hearts keeping speed with the blinks
of the orange hand flashing
across oil-slicked streets
join together as one messy throb,
one cadence, one voice
in this city of life.
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In the few times that I've been to New York, I have always been inspired by the energy and vitality which comes with traveling in this diverse city, even if the day is cold and gloomy.