Because This Is New York: Con

Manhattan by night: 1946

Because this is New York, I feel alone

   Even when I’m surrounded by a mob

Of people who race through this maze of stone

   To get to, or escape, their hated job.

I share the streets as part of this proud herd

   Of fellow souls, who all feel solitude;

I go for days and never say a word

   To anyone, except to order food.

So many strangers, hunting, just like me,

   For some warm human color in the gray

Of this ant’s nest—searching, only to see

   So many strangers, and they stay that way.

      My soul mate could be living down the street.

      Because this is New York?  We’ll never meet.

Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells