Something struck me

about my recent visit to New York,

perhaps the abundance of taxis,

strolling spirited business people

wired into music shutting them off

from city sounds which have

woken me for the past five nights

relentless rolling ambulances,

and sirens taking people to their final

resting place, and sheer absences

of green patches of oxygen

on cold winter days.

How does your soul survive such

cold concrete corruptions

and what happens with its removal?