Alexandra’s mOnOlouge…

New York, my own little concrete jungle, filled with girls in high heels and boys with cigarettes, paved with loud urban music and over priced coffee. Friends pulling all nighters and couples fighting all night, all while traffic lights are being ignored. Everyone has a fake ID in their wallets, along with two metro cards. And money is the answer to 85% of your questions. The youth wreaking havoc with their red painted lips and pomade waxed hair. Legs, so many long legs, dancing to euphoric beats and collapsed on polyester cushioned couches. The air is thick with the smell of hot dog water and salty pretzels, which no one really eats anyway. You end up chatting with a vaguely hung over, lower east side, hipster artist, he is engaging, but for just a second. The night filled with lights, so many, many lights, you feel a sudden rush, a flush, and you blush. Scantily clad girls running down subway steps with their date’s jackets and guys thinking why the hell did I give her my friggen jacket. Eyes looking up at the high rises, the sky rises, your own high rises. Do I kiss him, does she kiss with tongue, do we have to say goodnight to each other, or can we break night together? College guys, always in wolf packs, sex infused and searching for girls with long blonde hair, in the city of brunettes. The whole notion of ‘sleeping when you’re dead’ now sounds a tad bit foolish, you’re tired, but you’re body is living in the moment, for life is time, and time is all there is. It’s all about want, no one really needs anything here, what do you want? And so we’re born in the capital of the world and we can never escape, but don’t look down on us, because we are free in all the ways you are not. Who’s going to save this uncontainable teenage wasteland? And I am in the center of it all. On the 7 train traveling back to Queens, trying to remember the dream lived the night before. And in the morning starts the routine of school, work and conscience decisions.