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Grand Central Station
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/6/01 7:24:03 PM

So I twisted back and forth a while
Through the interstices of the metropolitan sidestreets
Looking for parking gaps
That wouldn't cost more than
Twenty for the day.

When I found there were none
Even that far from 5th
I started looking for an Avenue
To lead me to a Bridge
New York had exhausted me
And I was barely there
And couldn't spot an ATM in my exhaustion.

The motion was ceaseless
And tightly knit
An integrated blanket
Of twisting yarns.

Behind a half parked truck
I saw the light of an Avenue
From the darkness of an overshadowed street
And with a quick jog to the left
I was in the blaze of summer again.

With yellow taxi's blocking me out on all sides
I was so caught in the flow
That I could do nothing but shift left or right
To avoid collisions.

I saw a sport utility vehicle
Mix in with the mash of motion
And remembered to tune into Z100.

DMX was on the radio
Thumping hard with "Party Up!"
And all the cabs were speeding ahead
There was a tunnel within view.
At it's right was a massive hotel
I followed into the station
With the yellows.

And it was as if someone had flicked off the lightswitch.

There were people stepping to cabs so quickly it was difficult not to hit them.
I drove as far left as I could to get out of their way.
And I followed the curving of the tunnel
For a sixteenth of a mile
Until I could see the light
And a sign for Central Park.

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