Future NYC

My own apartment,

with a rat in the corner,

in a run-down section

of New York City.

A room covered in dropsheets,

transformed into my studio.

City lights, Times Square,

Central Park, no country fairs.

Metro. Museum of Art.

Sneak into exhibitions,

look like I’m rich

but with like-minded people.

Never sleeping;

always staring, captivated.

Listening to the underground music,

musicians I wish to see now.

Answering machine saying,

‘Find me on the streets.’

No one to see me directly.

Everyone too busy.

Looking like I’ve somewhere to go:

to my laptop, in my studio.

Keeping bedroom curtains open

while getting undressed.