Friends speaking languages tough to understand,

Stand on every corner, ever at the ready,

Pointing out every pixel of every billboard,

Snapping photos of images in store windows,

Chomping at the bit for a bite of Americana  —

Halal cart white sauce stains on shirts that ‘heart’ New York,

Restrained by camera straps and biodegradable shopping bags,

Filled with plastic reminders of that night —

Spent in Times Square.

Don’t worry about face to face time,

Our media is social  —

Be a consumer full time;

Or get paid to feed the masses  —

10-second clips and sound bites;

You can do it part time.

For a small fee you can watch it all for free

And in between as you try and breathe

We’ll drop in hyper-relevant, geo-targeted,

Data-driven, copywritten, focus group-tested,

Aspirational messaging  —

Telling you to be yourself and hang with friends,

As long as you share, and like, and repost  —

A small tip for your platform of choice  —

Hashtag, blessed.

What are we listening to

When we’re listening through

Man made sound waves  —

Electronic fascinations

That pique our aural imaginations

And keep us from the one thing

We’d benefit most from,

A friendly chat

One on one?

Of nonsense and bold scents

A summer’s day turns nose’s foe

When creeping trains far below

Toss underground aromas to and fro —

A family vacation never to forget.

Love, New York.

Little hands grasping

Diet sodas and smaller waistlines,

Connected entertainment devices and new realities,

Subway car polls and a sense of accomplishment,

Paperback books and yesteryears  —

Holding on to more than it seems,

We are the white-knucklers,

The pole dancers,

The fingertippers,

The wrist-leaners,

The underhanders,

The tap alongers,

The nervous tappers  —

We’re running Queens-bound,

On New York time.

Pitter patter, sometimes running,

Sometimes walking —

Pitter patter as the people pass

One after another, traversing to their towers,

Or their favorite bagel shop,

Or somewhere they’ve never been,

Sometimes determined,

Sometimes anxious,

Sometimes filled with joy —

Always anonymously pitter pattering,

Harmonizing with the musical landscape

That is the New York City sidewalk, a place

Where people pitter patter all day —

Listening to the sound lets you in on the secret.

Broken yolks run wild over bacon

And avocado and

Instagram filtering  —

Bumping contrast, cropping fingertips,

And hashtagging

Blessed things,

And love things,

And runnyeggyummyegg things  —

Post up here to post

Likable, shareable snaps  —

My feed is fed.

Alternating clings and clangs,

Each pour a note in the symphony

Of late night absurdity, best

For making new friends,

For trying new things —

Forgetfulness,

Full of stories

Later stated with no regrets,

And later still, regretting forgetting the very stories

That danced to the sweet sounds —

The music plays anyway.

Gestating hands

Signal a deeper issue,

As we communicate —

Loud to prove our point

That relevence is upon us,

That our noise canceling headset,

Unfortunately for the atmosphere-seeking brew sipper nearby,

Only works in one direction —

This quarterly sales meeting

could save lives.

Sidewalk-filling, iPhone-staring,

Super duty SUV strollers —

Packed with today’s snacks

And activities,

And unrelenting, space-taking size —

Wheels fit to traverse the Sahara

Ramp gracefully over bumpy brick pathways

And the sneakers of kid-free,

Foot-based travelers —

Apathetic to apologies, apparently.