New York

  "How could we live here?" 

  This question resonates inside me daily.  New York is not, after all, the easiest place to live. It is not always clean. It is way too crowded, especially in the theater district, and I love the theater. There can truly be wall to wall traffic. It is also at times dirty. The garbage, though picked up, sometimes still lingers on the streets, an ugly reminder you are a New Yorker, since you have learned to live with it.

And yet, and yet....I can't imagine living anywhere else for any prolonged period of time. I love its energy, even though it is hyper energy, it suits me. I love that there is so much to do here. Today I took the train to Canal Street and went to a very incredible museum, The Banksy Museum. I have discovered with TDF and groupon how to do things inexpensively. And yes, New York is terribly over-priced: the rents, the food, the amenities.

Everywhere I go, including in my building, there is a vast array of faces, religions, ethnicities, genders, ages. My own building feels like a model U.N. I love this, but even more so, I feel safe here, that the liberties of freedom of choice, a woman's right to reproductive care, the safeguarding of my DACA students, the books I read, the bible which will not appear in my public schools, my libraries which will be stocked with every book; in other words--at least for now--I feel like living in New York is living in a state where one's freedom is not inhibited, one not granted in so many states across America. I can only pray the federal government does not change this, but for now, my ob-gyn does not have to think about leaving her city and state to practice safe medicine. My local librarian can stock the shelves with any book he or she chooses. New York has many things which do not work, but its city and state municipalities do not adhere to any draconian rules.

And so, New York is my imperfect home. And as they say, there is no place like home!

And here is my love letter to New York

Overgrown Garden: A Love Letter to New York

Dear New York,

I should have left you

when it was easy

could have traipsed

into a spring of sunshine and sparrows

where miles of clean beaches

beautiful sunsets

and the stores

you might take me to

shelved with caviar, Perrier

simple breath

home baked bread

radiant of light and bright

a costume of white,

still

I allowed you

under my skin--

sweat of summer sidewalks

too much garbage

lingering like an open mouth

spewing a restless mass.

You were gritty

and dirty

feverish

without any relief,

at the corner bodega

you bought me a Slushy

and the voices

of language--

English, Spanish, Arabic, Bengali, Hindi--

a meandering queue

of faces and places

made me dizzy

with desire.

New York

youe frantic air is sifling

yet you pull me into this frenzy

of taste and smell and color;

how could I ever leave you?

Evn the daffodil

loves to linger

in your overgrown garden.