York, New: a poem

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York, New: a poem

Staff Writer

My time in New York was well-spent.
Except for the parts that weren’t.
But that’s to be expected.
It seems so distant now,
Some strange dream
In between gift shops.

But what’s worth a memory?
The Statue of Liberty?
We made acquaintance from afar,
But we never got close.
Especially since most of the visit
Was spent in the gift shop.

Ellis Island?
A hollow stone building
With a dull audio tour.
I spent my time wandering
The grounds outside
And visiting the gift shop.

The Met?
That was actually pretty neat.
I could’ve spent a week
Just examining everything.
But my dear friend
Spent her time in the gift shop.

The Empire State building?
It was pretty cool to be so high up,
With the wind fluttering wildly.
But the best part wasn’t the view
Nor was it the sensation of wind;
It was a few floors below, the gift shop.

Times Square?
Amazing the first five minutes,
Then it was just an overglorified
And excessively bright Spectrum.
With too many tourists and
Just enough gift shops.

The hotel?
It was a hotel like any other.
I drew the short straw,
Wound up sleeping on the floor.
The free coffee tasted awful
And there was no gift shop.

The only real memories
I remember fondly
Are playing subway games
And staying up late,
Talking in an emergency staircase,
And visiting gift shops.

It’s best to spend New York
And enjoy the buzz with
A close friend.
Someone who’ll stick with you
And watch Broadway shows
And enjoy gift shops.

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