No man is an island
but this is Manhattan where highrises kiss the sky
and neighbors share little more than addresses.
Greetings are saved for prefabricated cards,
signatures automatically tagged on texts and emails,
grudgingly scribbled on checks for overpriced dinners with underappreciating company
leaving us to wonder whether the mental price of solitude
is worth the actual savings of a night alone
watching other people live lives we are supposed to envy but don't.

flashing lights meant to daze us like deer
while fear creeps up like a mack truck
and steals our wallets
only to use our metrocard to commute to its next victim,
our cash to tip a bartender
who will flirt back, grateful for the opportunity to be a real actress.
We are all playing roles
Some more convincing than others.
more depth, gravitas, hutzpah.
Most uncertain of where the truth lies and the act begins.

Bottom line, all knickerbockers want to win but we don't know how.
Searching for wow we settle for oh.
Surprised by people that fall in our lap like pigeon lunch
only to spend an instant admiring the consistency
before convincing ourselves that poop is not Pollack
and acquaintances are not friends.
sex partners not lovers.
Concrete is not soil and grass does not grow on sidewalks,
Buildings may sprout up like weeds but whom do they feed?
What is the socio-nutritional value
of granite countertops that support carefully mass produced containers of uninventive fast food?
Ethnic or bland.  Expensive or cheap.

We sleep cuz we're tired but do we even dream?
It would seem with all this sleepwalking that we would be well rested
but this is "the city that never sleeps"
so we hustle and strategize even in our beds
yeah it's free but then again we don't get paid.
So what is this thing called leisure?
And when do I get to close my eyes to see
Halle Berry waiting on me with a home cooked meal and tickets to Tahiti or France?

When do I get my chance to escape
without the medication advertised on prime time tv?
Pills that promise sexy bodies.
Websites that promise true love.
Products promise happiness
but basic economics suggests that it's bad business to actually solve your customers problems
cuz then who will buy your services, your product, your bullshit 
but  if there is no shit, there will be no fertilizer for hirise weeds
and all the facilitators will see their pallid faces steeped in fluorescent light
and realize that there's no such thing as magic jelly bean MBA's.
That the dollar dream is really not what it seems
and there truly is no place like home.

And maybe just maybe,
the locals will come out of hiding
and the hopeless will crowd the streets searching in earnest for happiness
and sincere drunk people will laugh until they cry
and hopefully lonely people will not look in their lover's eyes for answers
but run to their arms for warmth.