It’s easy to die in New York City
when the wind is gentle and the sky is pretty,
the sun is setting over the water and into
New Jersey
leaving the breeze off the Hudson River
cooler;
hardening the nipples
behind all that silk
and cotton,
causing the vestigial goosebumps to pop and
the hair to stand on end;
the shivers,
the quivers
and the getting closer.
What style, what grace, what voice and what taste!
The liquor slithers down the tunnel in search of
evaporation
and the body awaits its filter.
It’s easy to have your eyes blinded
by the flashing lights;
the big city lights,
the billboard lights;
wishing your name in lights;
the heights of the buildings and
the depths of the underground
that supports this city
and its foundation:
overwhelming your sense of scale.
It’s easy to die in New York City
with your eyes on your texting
and your ears full of headphone; a face
full of grill and the end of your
life when your skull slams against
the asphalt. All of your knowledge
in blood and gravel soup leaking
out and down into sewers.
You can assist the music or stay silent.
It’s easy to give your heart away in New York City
to the leggy dames expert at fashion games
that smell of flowers and animal sweat
sweetbreads, lilacs and chardonnay
who walk hurriedly between destinations aware
of the stares and the desperate sexual lust of
the sailors, laborers and tailors; the waiters, haters
and players hustling along the Avenue.
It’s easy to have your kidneys and liver smashed with
the incessant partying and all night shifts, silent winks
and get my drifts, toilet bowl privacy and more damage
to the soul. It’s easy to celebrate an early death with a
full life, to fix a deviated septum, to put your name on
a list for a transplant, to tip the doctor a hundred dollars
to prescribe you Percocet.
It’s easy to die in New York
with the pork fat on the plate
and the arteries hardening,
the vintage vino vilifying
your bloodstream and
congealing your senses
ah the Dionysian mythos!
the cupidus pathos!
lecherous and lustful
with a pocketful of
hard-on and follicle fire
fingernail sensitivity
anxious and ready to die…
It’s easy to lose yourself
when you are surrounded by so many people.
Where is everyone going?
Do I need an invitation?
Is it easy to get in?
How much am I worth in good looks
in this gluttonously cannibalistic ouroboros town?
It’s easy to fill your lungs with the
poisonous perfume of the traffic jams
and vehicles with reason;
to inhale the carbon monoxide exhaust
of the enormous garbage collecting dinosaurs;
to suck in the grease and tobacco release
from the sidewalk exhale.
“It’s easy to see without looking to far that not much is really sacred” sang Robert Zimmerman and that sinful man sure could sing the gospel. It’s easy to quote, to rip off, to cut and paste, to steal and plagiarize, to sample, to write off, to critique, to put a price on your worth, to go gold, to win the Pulitzer, to become enlightened.
It’s easy to die in New York City
where pity is one county over and
the homeless get stepped over in
colder weather like Hugo Alfredo
who saved a woman from the blade
that entered him. He collapsed in
Queens this past April.
Twenty Five people walked over him,
some stopped to stare. Not one person
reported the condition of the man.
The gawking rubberneckers
are all on surveillance tape.
It’s easy to make your mark
in the city
if you’re cute,
if you’re witty,
if you’re smart,
if you’re pretty,
if you can flash in the pan with everyone looking,
if you can withstand the flashes
and the constant demand,
if you love yourself as much as the rest of us will,
if you have a will fortified with ego and desire,
if you can handle the fire,
if you can handle the snow,
if you can take the eating and being spit out,
if you can maintain your clout,
if you can build a reputation of silk and iron.
It’s easy to feed your cherry libido
with the sweat from the loose girls
and loose boys and free toys and the
spoils of war,
behind velvet curtain drapes,
under tables, in the men’s room,
in the ladies room,
in full bloom with the eggs
and the seeds hot for the eruption…
It’s easy to get fat from the consumption
with the greasy meats and rich sauces,
the free booze and the lost causes,
the chocolate lava desserts and
peanutbutter pretzel icecream
It’s easy to die in New York
without a care in the world,
not a song in your head,
not a dollar to your name,
not a single imprint on the fabric of society;
while pigeons cluster around whisky/pizza vomit
get a little tipsy themselves, and flutter
happily to the less chilly now rooftops.
It’s easy to die in New York City
when the heat goes off,
the power goes out,
during a blackout
when the temperatures are over
one hundred Fahrenheit and the
elevator doesn’t work;
so Grandmother can’t get outside
before she cooks to death.
It’s easy to get it twisted.
It’s easy to flip the fuck out.
It’s easy to disrespect the first hundred
out of two hundred people you meet on
the sidewalk because who the fuck are they,
besides in my way? It’s easy to sway and
bounce and strut and pounce and behave
like an animal because after all
it’s like a jungle sometimes
– huh-huh-huh-HUnh
It’s easy to fly off the handle
when you never had a grip
easy to let the words slip
when you are exhausted from restraining
what you believe to be the truth
It’s easy to hijack a major jet airliner full of passengers
and steer it into the city’s tallest buildings
incinerating yourself and any evidence to the contrary.
It’s easy to fly those same jumbo jet airliners by remote control
from some undisclosed location and
convince certain military intelligence
that the evil they perform is patriotic and for the good
of the country.
It’s easy to go on a shopping spree less the terrorists win
to spend a third of your check on frivolous shit that you don’t need
like cashmere socks and hydroponic weed.
easy does it
nice and easy
you tell yourself
It’s easy to just relax and let them give it to you
easy to overlook the closeness
you have with other people when
you are so absorbed in your own parade
It’s easy to bang the walls
holding onto the bed with a suicide grip that
refuses to let go and
a face full of tears
screaming at the neighbors
to turn down the music because all you
need is a little silence in this city that never
sleeps and no one ever hears a peep out of you
in this city that doesn’t recognize your special place
in the universe
which is right where you are
How can you ever deny that?
It’s easy to die in New York
with a twinkle twinkle little star
going down on your sex
with a famous mouth
and infected sore.
It’s easy to see the score as soon as the first play is called
It’s easy to be balled by an anonymous source
urgent and noisy horny
for any way to make it
It’s easy to die in New York City
with a girlfriend coke-fiend and a
boyfriend junkie both sure to self- destruct
but somehow outdoing you with their thin and dark
photogenic moneypot
“What are you going to do now?”
the last thing you hear from either
one while they make it rich and
exclusive
It’s easy to see it happen too fast here
It’s easy to say goodbye in New York
to transient lovers flying back to Mexico
L.A.
the Gobi Desert
hopping off the island in pursuit of their
landscape dreams that involve wavy
colorful suns and silent starscapes
It’s easy to unlock the demons
from the secret box
with the special key
you got from your mother
when the angels are rap-tap-tapping
on your chamber door
begging for you to share
your gift and come play
with them
Weary watery waves of passionate bliss
just being alive
It’s easy to walk the razor’s edge
between mystical and hysterical
to dance parallel to the ground and
walk on air
when you’re in love with a sexual partner
in a beautiful universe and the pistons are
firing and the gears are grinding and the
kiss is often and the electric chemicals
are rushing from your core to your
pleasure principal and the goal has
been scored
the game has been won
and the crowd has gone wild
It’s easy to get lost in the crowd
to skirt the FBI or the NYPD
if you are a small time hood
snatching old ladies’ purses
weaving through pedestrians
with young brother ease and
flee the scene instincts
down the stairs in a jump
and over the turnstile with a jump
and jump on a train
It’s easy to get to know the trains in New York City
which trains connect which neighborhoods to which
easy to switch trains at the proper terminals and get from
any point A to any other point B in minutes
unless you’re going to Queens
It’s easy to have borough pride in New York City
‘if you’re BK let me here you say BK!’ screams the MC
and you bet the thundercats from Brooklyn scream the loudest
and the Manhattanites don’t go out anymore
because either all of their money goes to rent
or they have moved to Brooklyn and scream loud
when the MC says ‘let me here you say BK!’
It’s easy to be whatever you want to be
in your imaginary world
while the eviction notice gets tacked on your door
and the jobs stop coming
and who the hell wants to buy your art?
and why the hell aren’t you sleeping with the curators
and dealers and the movers and the shakers?
It’s easy to die in New York
with your art on the wall and
the landlord down the hall
screaming for the rent
threatening to take legal action
a pack of wolves in your mind
tearing at the cerebellum;
snarling,
darling;
a loving testament to the death that waits
knocking on the pearly gates with iron fists
wrapped in kid gloves
It’s easy to die in New York
the cork torn from the bottle with a pocket knife
bloody fingers cracked and swollen knuckles
large laborer’s hands meant for gripping
and moving
strong and durable
would rather break a finger than drop the ball
rather snake a toilet than be too good not to do it
rather lick the ass than never get in there at all
easy to fall prey to the luscious talons
of the swooping predator
Age
letting the life force rip you to shreds
to feed its angry offspring
Time
which will grow strong from you
and feed from your own offspring
a lovely vicious cycle
that keeps us up in the sky
believe it or not
utopia is rot.
It’s easy to die in New York
when you make yourself center of attention
and can’t deliver the bomb
when you paint the bullseye on your forehead
and dodge all of the bullets and arrows
when you whistle to sparrows
and capture them in nets
burn their eyes and
jail them in cages for song
when you focus your rages on war
and your outrageous on comedy
when it’s all about “me”
and a global narcissism
threatens to eliminate
the individual’s importance.
It’s easy to preach
It’s easy to see in the dark and around corners,
into the future and accurately
about your own behavior
in the past
It’s easy to put a good light on your dark shadows
to smudge away your previous imperfections
with cinema make up and movie magic
easy to fill in the blank if no one saw you do it
get away with murder
actually kill a person and walk away
It’s easy to forget that you belong
to the kingdom of wild animal
It’s easy to ferment in the big apple
to turn sour
cider
alcoholic
bitter
delicious and
intoxicating
infested with worms
but healthier than most
to drop from the tree unpicked
firm and bouncing on the springy leaves
to roll down the hill and despite all clichés
fall
far
from
the tree
It’s easy to die in New York with your hand on your heart
and a prayer for tomorrow – the red meat and cigarettes
finally getting to you – all of those hours spent
inactive – static in the pulse – furniture in the dance
It’s easy to get lost in the fog and lights
when the room is spinning and the music is rocking
sometimes letting the good times roll too easy
and bowl right over you.
It’s easy to get elected in the big apple
to run for mayor or congressperson and
serve the people
herd the sheep
reap the benefits of life in public office
with lobbyists and bankers
taking you to lunch and dinner
tickets to the show
and an inside line of the best trades
money
money
money it’s easy to make a million dollars in the city
to abuse the seat you serve
to shove a cigar into a vagina; a fuck for now
and a smoke for later
one giant hard-on for attention: politician
one slippery eel in a bucketful of snot
It’s easy to grind the pavement
with skateboard wheels
really carve out a wave
jetting down Amsterdam Avenue
without pads, without helmet
two sleeves of tattoos and a lip ring
hair slick from its own oils and
a wool knit cap in August
wallet on a chain into your pocket,
keys hooked on your belt loop and
jangling,
canvas sneakers – such an all star
It’s easy to be an all star
to be elected by your peers
as one of the best at what you do
easy to drive the lane
juke the center
split the guards
leap over the forwards and dunk the leather gourd
it’s easy to dodge the linebackers
outrun the defensive ends
knock the safeties on their ass
and
celebrate a touchdown in the endzone
It’s easy to hit a fastball four hundred feet
over the centerfield wall when you are down three runs
and the bases are loaded in the bottom of the ninth
with a full count and thirty thousand flashbulbs
glittering all around you famously
It’s easy to score a hit record in the city
with a four/four beat
jazzed up with some basic tremolos from the cellos
and some funky bass lines
some generic rhymes
repeated as a chorus
cliché! cliché!
Nothing to say
hallmark drivel
yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Unh~! Unh! Yeah!
saying your name
territorial pissing or
screaming at the top of your lungs
that you love me
It’s easy to hide your gender in New York City
to look pretty for the other participants in the crying game
to pluck and shave
nip and tuck
paint and spray, to
dress and whisper
easy to bat those wonderful lashes and lick
your glossy lips to find someone to light your cigarette
and share your mouth
It’s easy to have a disease put in your body
by a beauty with no signs
of the infection on their perfect sweet bodies
secretly
dangerously
blisteringly really
It’s easy to make mistakes that last lifetimes
to set off the alarms
to forget the sunscreen
to ignore the gypsy lady who smells the sulfur on your breath
and sees the fire in your eyes
It’s easy to get the lead role
to audition for the big part and
score a Tony nod for your performance
riveting
gripping
a rare find
a sensation!
The adjectives and accolades are as endless as your professional horizon
It’s easy to lose your mind in New York City
to just snap
the fragile grasp of reality lubricated once too often
the hold gone
the fall complete
the fracture irreparable
screaming and hollering
to the ghosts that haunt you
pulling out what remains of your hair
kicking the trash can into the street
tossing your briefcase up into the air
the contents raining down
damning your god and your cheating wife
unable to manage
one more minute of the mayhem
that is your existence
the circus in your mind
the wild animal hysteria of your weakness
preferring pajamas, pudding and television
to anymore responsibility
shutting down in front of the psychologists
a resilient case
one that never wants to get solved
easy to die under constant care in New York City.
It’s easy to humpty dumpty
to crack your skull
on the concrete
and let all of the yoke out
face blank with egg white
and no more able to communicate,
feel or
breathe
It’s easy to compare yourself to others
and find the fault in many.
It’s easy to judge the frightened proud.
It’s easy to scan a crowd and tell who’s who
by the strut in their get up
and the look on their face
acting
it’s easy to just be acting in New York City
millions of people after the same food and sex as you
in hurry up mode
It’s easy to cheat
to best your competitor unfairly
card tricks
parlor tricks
souped-up engines that go against regulations
performance enhancing drugs for you and your horse
easy to take a dive in the ring for the big pay out
the one ghost punch to ruin your reputation
and pay for your mansion
wedding and retirement
easy to steal Michelin awarded recipes
and open your own restaurant
It’s easy to understand anthropologically
the reasons for such tribal behavior
among fellow primates
mouth agape
mind blank
feeding the demon want…
God is urge…
It’s easy to sing a song of yourself and address
the common man with your wit and lyricism
your confidence and solipsism
never endearing him to the light inside of you
but opening a door and hoping he isn’t afraid to enter.
It’s easy to donate sperm to the seed factory and
reproduce randomly
spreading your germs
like an intelligent and willful animal
like a sneaky wasp in a horny hornet’s nest
It’s easy to soak up other people’s mess
to step in pee or poo
or over the unconscious clump
soaked and stained with pee and poo
stinky reality of human grossness
It’s easy to mix metaphors like pills with booze and
lose yourself to the singular pulse
to vibrate endlessly aiming towards goal and no
connection to the millions around you
It’s easy to die in the city while still young and clever
Especially when you want to live here forever.
It’s easy to die in New York City
when you want to live here forever.
