a diary of thought.
|
|
www.poisonedpunchbowl.com |
|
I want the New York that was a dream for girls on farms who yearned to see a real show after red velvet curtains lifted. I want the New York when Tin Pan Alley was just sharpening it's teeth and women knew better than to wear their furs and diamonds during the day. I want the New York that had the kind of class you could smell over the stench of the sewers. The kind of New York you could hear sing over the blare of car horns or carriages. I want the New York before movie theaters, and televisions in Times Square, and billboards full of malnourished women. I want the New York that carried it's women with full hips and red lips from the tip of Battery Park to Broadway and back down to Harlem where the music tipped you upside down. I want the New York dotted with cozy cabarets, velvet chairs and sparkle on the streets. The New York you knew could eat you alive but still you stayed. I want the New York that stopped and caught it's breath, paused in the face of death and gave a little of the pace up to make room for the parade. |
