If I Look by Nicole Barth [6/15/16]

The city pulsates,
bursting in a glorious cacophony;
Truck horns blaring their condescension as
Gothic, Art Nouveau and
Victorian buildings spectate;

Buildings thrown together like the misfits
of New York City populace.

I come from a city of car exhaust and
cigar smoke that lines the
entrances of canopies and foliage;

I am the halal cart greeting you
in front of the Natural History Museum;

the Oak trees in Central Park,
the homeless on the bench;

the runner in the bike lane;

The light at 4 a.m.