i'll send you a post card

as the bus pulls
out, swings it's long
metal casing over
wheels that rumble
on the street, my
bags are stowed
below, the sky is
blue and clear, and
new york city is
just a mere five hours
away, into the
canyon of cement
and steel, the arteries
of bridges coming
in from all sides, penn
station, my heart
skips a beat. it's
been awhile. i've got
a pocket full
of money, a credit
card that's been
taking a beating
and some broadway
tickets to a show i
have no clue about.
my room is not far
from times square,
but far enough to
not feel the pulse
of it all. i can
taste the hot pastrami,
i can feel the pavement
beneath my shoes. smell
the chestnuts roasting
in a corner cart.
i can feel the wind
of taxis speeding
too close, too fast,
i can feel christmas
easing like a slow
parade around the corner.
it's just a visit and i
could never live there,
not really, but it's
a taste, a nice long
drink of chaotic fun.
i'll send you a post card.
and i'll write, love,
wish you were here.