I lie puzzled as I backtrack to earlier times
nothing's equivalent
to the New York state of mind
It is a state of mind: the rattle beneath the corner store, C train commotion, yells and gusts, clocktower--skybeam--sunset, the burned out buildingfront on top of the park. The fear and excitement, the purple hightops, big glasses and scarves. It is the bigness and the badness, the madness and the sadness.
The mind-state: why gentrification matters, the loss of that impervious grit. And yet, poverty is still real, class-clown favorites stabbed on the block: the grit lives on. "You know he'll call ACS, that's why I don't say shit," paranoia, etc: the grit lives, never what it seems. Perceptions are what change, mind-states might die. Flashes of crazy, flashes of love: mind-state. But, then, nothing is really any different except that you thought it was.
Back to the old days, but mind-states live there too because what was remembered is different than what was. 4th ave bustle, the app now, down 32nd, townhouses falling to peices, California...knows how to party, even if we'd never been there: different than what was.
Life is what gets in the way. New York is a place where you just want to be.
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