Why not let go?
Because I am the one being held.
I am New York.
New York is me.
But…
Time lets me be night.
Night lets me pretend.
To be Dylan Thomas.
Taking the last shot at the White Horse.
My arms hurt.
Is my heart attacking me?
Or am I attacking my heart?
I was prince of the apple towns.
Samantha minutes are longer.
Greek mythologies reference me.
In the chasm of Hades.
I still feel.
I still feel young and easy.
But I am old and hard.
Green has gone and turned grey.
Life has gone and turned silly.
Like eating spaghetti with your hands.
Just because you can.
Holding all Monday.
Until poetry.
I have to pee.
If I seem to be afraid.
It’s probably because.
For the first time.
I am not afraid at all.
I’m trying to grow up.
While trying to stay young.
It’s becoming fun again.