Exterior seems to crumble at breath
except for the glowing jewel of a necklace,
The ruby door with a grand frame,
captivated lightings fall from each window showing
a glance into glamorous lives of the superfluous apartments,
contradiction to the outside rumble,
warm atmosphere and classy furniture meet the eyes.
I fumble out the door, curry hits the body
and wraps its spicy scent around me,
like a breeze from Beijing
Indian, Chinese and other ethnicities around
provide exotic food, bustling natives embrace new
culture while following the packed sidewalks that show
growing cracks. Taxis blur the world yellow and black
echoing crude honks and yells of the close walls.
Suits glance a second of their time to degrade
me down to city dirt. I try to morph to Central Park,
bypass the stares at my guitar slung around my back,
or the awed faces of fans and then the
excessive pointing that puts me on display
like some store mannequin.
Warmth hits my face, the shadows of the old beats
and buildings leaves me as I find
my classic movie scene bench.
I take my guitar and use the visuals and influences
of the day to write my song.
I dress it up as I finger notes on hard
mahogany absorbing the feathery rays of sun.
Then the notes come like water from a tap
And I dizzy myself up in the music.