I love you, New York

I’ve come back from the city like a wild animal. Hungry still, but only for the taste of it, not because I need it filling my body. It’s become obvious to me what I need to survive and I need very little.
The city is a substance. I abuse it. And like a newly washed animal, I want to roll in the dirt, never be clean again. Never be in the sun or warm. Never be normal. Never be looked upon unless by your eyes. Except you have always left me. Our love interrupts my reality.
This has all been a dream. Wanting you so badly, I kiss every open mouth I see.

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4 Responses to I love you, New York

  1. Angella says:

    fabulous! ah yes, i know this new york. it changes though, as the years pass, becomes both grittier and more gentle, sort of resigned. that is probably a good thing.

    • rachvb says:

      It must change the more time you are there. That must be such a cool thing to see evolving. It’s such a moody city. But every time I go, I feel it breathing all around me. It can swallow you up and then when it’s spits you out your first reaction is “thank you for the experience.” I love it. There’s nothing else like it.

  2. Ms. Moon says:

    “I kiss every open mouth I see.”
    Reminds me of Gibson, my ten-month old grandson. Who yes, is quite open to life too, wherever he is.

    • rachvb says:

      I know better, but I can’t help it. We start out so unafraid and then slowly with each dent from the world, we are shaped. I hope I’m a child in that regard always – open even in fear. I love Gibson. He is a hero.

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