It was 7:20 am and after looking both ways, my cousin Alissa and I sprinted across Northfield Avenue.
The bus was ten minutes late, as usual.
I took a seat behind a man reading the Star Ledger.
Men in suits,
Going and stopping,
Women clutch onto their handbags,
stopping and going.
Cars squeeze between dashed lines.

I sat on a bus headed straight for New York and
For the first time in months,
I felt as if I was in motion again.

Lines to ride the escalators
Lines to refill your metro card
Lines to get into line

And the grand exit! You must walk faster, faster, faster. Keep up with their feet.
Look around you, each one, each breathing human,
Look around you and try and envision each of their lives.
Those suits are their skins.

Everyone was going someplace.
It was the beginning of a new day. Everyone is coming
or they just left. Coming and going, coming and going.

My uncomfortable shiny shoes.
Authentic Turkish food at Ali baba.
The kindness of a bus driver.
The man who threw curses at us while riding a bike.
The little girl who was afraid of the black pigeon.
The security guard playing a keyboard in the heat of the subway.

I breathed in the stench of food and Autumn,
I exhaled the smoke of engines and machines

Oh! New York City.