I think about that seven-year old girl
with barrettes in her hair and wind on her cheeks
and at times I wonder
What must she think of me?
Like Carrie Bradshaw, maybe?
But, hold the sex. I’ll take the city.
please have mercy.
I wore my blue suede shoes
to a club to dance away my rhythm and blues
along the way, I bumped into Langston Hughes.
He’s got fingerprints all over Harlem
what would he think of the city’s problem,
with growing and changing
and neighborhoods rearranging?
Would he approve like Carnegie,
to see he left a legacy
that in twenty years may be gone,
whilst all this chaos and confusion goes on?
But we still hum their swan songs
And I may not be seven anymore,
but New York still has excitement galore
I’ll sit back and wonder what the next eleven years has in store.