Tourist in the Heat

A modern idol of capitalism produced goose bumps on my well travel skin. After the Station Island Ferry provided old Lady Liberty looks smaller in person; as giants typically do.

The heat of summer has closed in upon the city. Standing next to an odiferous gentleman in a packed subway car made it tempting to curse the heat. Yet before thoughts defaming the temperature became words on my lips I remembered the winter. Memories of its frigid days, the wind assaulting my exposed skin, and modest clothes put the current situation in perspective.


Mermaid Parade

Mermaids have pierced nipples? Of the literature I have reviewed, mermaids enjoy a bra free lifestyle only utilizing clam shells within conservative communities. So why was the Coney Island Mermaid adorning studs in hers? Initially I imagined they could be used as fishing lures, but that sounded rather painful.
Before a resolution could be reach, a number of roller skating mermaids rushed past with a classic car in hot pursuit. Stunned that not only roller skates, but classic cars function in an aquatic environment I quickly rushed back to the subway station to escape the madness and a deepening sunburn.


Strawberry Fields

Homeward bound Central Park yielded an unexpected moment of hippy perfection from within Strawberry Fields. For a moment nothing was real. An odd concoction of humanity shared in a soulful harmony of lyrics I’ve now forgotten; all but a teenager proudly adorning Charley, and the Birdman expelling seed joined in.
Becoming distracted the moment slipped away. I entered bellow where it ended and went about my merry way.


Bodily Needs

In Morning Side Park there is a modest pond where I pilot my twelve inch yacht. While cruising last Saturday afternoon, I looked to the shore. There a derelict woman squatted above the grass, pants around her knees. With a mighty grimace upon her face a golden stream sprang fourth upon the lawn. The gazes and awe of children, adults, elders, and ducks uncontrollably converged upon her. With a sharp defiant look, the transient silently stared back demanding privacy from her audience; all but one trama stricken child averted their eyes.
Having secured her seclusion the derelict squeezed the remaining stream from her loins, enjoying the isolation of the open lawn.


Joe has moved, again

Moving seems to lose its charm after doing so for 10th time in a year. Yet my new residence is ever so nice. Situated on 116th St. next to Morning Side Park where the air is clean I now lay my head in a recently renovated first floor apartment. The only flaw of my new abode is the slamming of a garbage can lid situated outside of my bedroom window at odd hours.
Take a look. Just don’t use that street view option to look in my window…

Daily Commute

Striding to the bus stop,
A child guided by his mother pees upon a garbage can.
Striding into work,
A disgruntled protester holding a tattered sign demonstrates against the medical community.
Striding into the Rockefeller Library,
Dancing Liberians present the studious with bagels.
Striding through Central park,
A spinning violin playing guru topped with a feather sings within the Arcade, while Cyclist’s adorner in technicolor knit outfits peddle about.
Striding to my apartment,
A pink shuttle whisks its passengers off to Sin City.
Striding off to sleep,
I wonder why it’s been such a slow day.