Tag Archives: citylife

moment 27

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big red stood in the yard. broad shouldered and tall. taller than most there. he could easily carry more than a hundred. once. now, not so sure. time had transformed him. no longer days wandering the streets of the city, saying hello to new folk. folk local to the place and visitors from far off lands he would never see. tales of gleaming buildings, monorails and cars that walked themselves. tales of streets filled with people, almost unable to move, fighting to get home. home to their small boxes with small rooms and small children. in his city not so busy. instead narrow roads, grime-covered bricks, litter dancing on pavements, and sleeping drunks at bus stops. most were nice to him, grateful of his help, happy he was there. others swore at him, hit him as he passed or scrawled obscenities on him as he slept. no, he was old and travelled the city streets no more. instead, he sat in the yard, changed. some days were good. people would come to him, get a drink at a table in sun, or study vibrant art. other times, laughter filled the air. they sat on him listening, waiting for the punchline to come. and the lonely times, he would just sit there, in the yard, in the dark, waiting for day to break. waiting for the company of people. he did not mind his end times. there was nothing he could do. but sit. wait. big red.

new york

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a guy plays sax for coin on the corner of 6th avenue and 55 street. mechanical rabbits and cats dance to the beat. a few walkers tap their feet to the rhythm, sway to the sound. but give no dime. they’re too busy waiting to cross. pass the manhole covers venting steam in the 31 heat. they cross. on their way to meet. sit in a bar. sip a cool beer.
outside barnes & noble on 5th avenue a grey old man sleeps. head on a box. slumbered. he holds a sign in one hand. black marker pen: please help i am homeless, oh god save us all, oh god save us all. he makes no dollar. he doesn’t notice.
the street sellers set up their plastic crates with goods for the night crowds. genuine rolexes and gucci bags for a ten. they give their patter to the tourists. everything is for sale. even souls.
the queue builds outside the rock. the red carpet awaits. cool efficiency bundles the bodies in for a view like no other. come enjoy the ride. sorry the tops closed. lightning expected.
the wise seek shelter in the air-cooled diner. iced lattes and milk shakes with candy floss. all day breakfast. delivered with a smile. they work hard for their tip. the manager smiles.
in dillon’s the locals drink ice-cool beer and watch the sports on the many screens. how we doing in paris? there is the crack of the pool table as the screen light gleams off the copper jars hanging from the ceiling.
in the bar of the renwick hotel loud music plays. you have to sell a kidney to pay for a beer. they take your money with a smile. a drunk new yorker tells you about his wall street deals and visit to london. he’s scathing of both. but it is no better here.
the strand bookstore. the lost wander the shelves looking for loved ones. they find them hardbound. there is the smell of coffee by the graphic novels and teenage girls browse the romance novels. not that one – my mum would kill me!
lafayette is a place of chilled wine and flaky pastry. pistachio cream filled croissants are devoured eagerly as talk turns to the best shops for sneakers. have you tried macy’s?
in the white horse tavern in west village tourists drink cocktails and tell stories of dylan thomas. you can’t help thinking the place was better then.
empty boutique stores in greenwich village display designer goods without the price tag. no one goes in. the locals instead walk their dogs and talk of the best place to get coffee.
in washington square the young play for the crowds. street sellers have handcrafted trinkets. you can play chess for a fee. a bare chested man practices his dance moves. too vigorous. his shorts fall down. unperturbed. he dances on.
times square you get bundles by mickey and his friend mickey. with mickey. their mouse features are fixed grinned. menacing. the screens pop ads encouraging you to spend. come on! embrace the american dream.

moment 26

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a trail followed. sooty prints from fireplace to rug to telly. a story to be discovered. a wire severed. the cry of a child. teddy with arm detached. violently. trainers chewed. unblemished white blemished. a dirt trail on a duvet. a monkey ripped asunder. the karate dog safely hidden. relief as other teddy remains safe in upper room. a disaster adverted. in the shower, a single clue to visitors. an unpleasant sight. dark and wet. the foxy culprit long since gone.

moment 24

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the sky is so dark here. real dark. not like the dark of the city which is like a deep, dark blue. illuminated by the streetlights. the lights of shop windows, offices, apartments. the lights of cars going somewhere, quick and fast. a blur of light up from the city, into the sky, making it dark day. the sky is never black in the city. just the colour of uniform. the stars lost, devoured, consumed by the city life. florescent lights are our wonder now. laser lights across the sky, picking out buildings. no room for shadows. nests are filled with birds with insomnia. tablets on a branch. if only we could sleep. the streetlight flickers. blink on. blink off. blink on. turning backs to the light. but here it is real dark. black of soul dark. reaper cowl dark. even trees become invisible. you have to sense them. sound echoes in its closeness. it touches the ground. spreads. over every blade of grass until all are nothing. a void. a board to be chalked upon. above are shapes i had forgotten. shapes like stars. pinpoints of white in the sky.