Living in Two Cities with the Same Name
a poem about how I hated the NewYork without you
Published in
2 min readDec 18, 2020
I live in two cities with the same name.
The first city is beautiful
like you are, when you get off the plane.
In it live all the explanations of all the generations of dreamers
of artists and thinkers.
The first city has a taste to it,
like the brave parts of everywhere
that everywhere brought with them when they came
bites of culture smuggled over in seasonings
and grandmothers recipe book stains.
The first city is an almost empty train
with no delays, and you two stops away.
It’s only the clean cabs
and only the time square tourist cops.
Its kisses so slow the entire city stops.
It’s a lot,
but it spits you out smiling.
Unlike the second city.
The second city bites
deep like freezing rain, and pitch black nights.
