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Poem For New York


O my god, get out of my way
O my god, please get out of my way
O my fucking god, get out of my way.


Just, just, just stop staring at your cell phone
and, and, go all the way up the stairs
and turn, like, right or left or something
because this is not the stand-and-text-area
this is the get-out-of-my-fucking-way area.


I know you guys are in love
and that it’s awesome to walk side-by-side
as slowly as humanly possible
but some of us are single
and in a hurry
and not utterly oblivious to the happiness, well-being
and very existence
of other people.


Hey, I’m sure you’re really proud of that ass of yours,
But instead of just parking it there, could you,
Like, move it the fuck out of my way?

2 Responses to “Poem For New York”

  1. janine Says:

    yimmy, i wrote a similar poem a few years ago that you may like:
    this bitch
    that bitch
    rich bitch
    po bitch
    push that bitch down the stairs
    push that bitch down the stairs

    my inner feminist requires I clarify my use of the term “bitch” applies to all genders, since blocking the subway stairs like a common asshole is an equal opportunity dick move.

  2. jen Says:

    And SO NY.
    The reason I moved to the top of Manhattan.
    The sidewalks are bigger.
    And less people.
    And more parks.
    Bigger sidewalks + less people + more parks = shiny, happy people holding hands.

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