So, today,
you sit in the median on Broadway,
across from the Flatiron building,
sipping a Grande, iced, skinny vanilla latte
(you might as well have ordered water)
from that franchise you keep vowing to disavow,
immensely enjoying the sunshine
while musing about apartments.
Maybe, today,
you won't wear headphones on the subway
because you want to sit in the noise generated by
people trying to be silent, staring stonily ahead,
headphones tucked into bruised ears,
trying in vain to pretend they are alone in a madhouse.
Definitely, today,
you will meet friends for Arepas
and a Bloody Mary, but only if you're lucky,
since New York bartenders tend to
only make that drink for brunch.
You will breathe, just breathe,
but not like that Anna Nalick song.
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