Through heavy doors, hurried by crowd,
face stings with gusts of wind that push west
to Madison where many seek refuge in the warmth of delis
or comfort under an awning in the rain.
Contemplating appetite I go right, as usual,
past doormen and yappy dogs in large purses,
the uptown clutter of Louis Vuitton and Kate Spade
Usually purchasing bottled water, diet coke -
guilt-free and empty though my stomach churns
and yells at me over car horns and sirens.

March back to brick on dirty sidewalks -
Invisible beggars request loose change and food,
digging through garbage for buried treasure.
Past the corner Starbucks, 96th, as greedy as the poor -
Feeding my latest addiction
cause it makes me warm and happy sick,
leaves me laughing with deceptive full.
Past boys who flirt with cancer under winter coats -
Invincible on the stoops of 95th,
flavoring the city air with youthful rebellion
that floats downtown and through the hole in the ozone.

And I sit on cold steps through skin and jeans,
Sipping and gurgling my lunchtime song
full of sharps and flats and sour notes,
knowing all along that the doctor wouldn't approve,
like my friends, through their secret understanding,
Because everyone wants to be pretty
against the Upper East that shines through grime
and petty thefts and the bloody murders of store clerks.

I seek my own beauty in a spiral of coffee and anemia
that illuminates Park Avenue and the backseat of taxi cabs
and poisons the polluted air like second hand smoke
and the floating ashes of the dead since that September.
And I find more vitamins and minerals in this city life
than I see on the shelves of stores, behind counters,
curing my own malnutrition with tap water
and the lasting comfort of grimey NYC.

But even the hands of time won't accept my explanation,
Persecuting my substitution with feelings of shallow empty.
My head weighs heavy and my knees grow weak,
Body dances slow like rush hour traffic,
Words speed by like silver subway and thoughts race
with the jumble of public bus crowded.
Battle til a quarter past twelve and on and on
until the restless cries and noisy rush of city night.
I justify physical stomach empty with my love of city
that stertches East to West and runs through the Hudson
and claim it a surrogate for noontime nutrition.