The taste of the concrete

Hello New York,

I've heard from you,

at least two times.

Once on the news

and once from the stars.

I've decided to stay here tonight.

And maybe five-hundred nights more.

Far away from home

I arrived to your grass.

Grass?

All I see are streets.

Gray views and naked threes.

From the fall.

I can't understand

the rush...

the flow of the wind 

or the tears falling down.

Solitude one more time,

but no ducks that care.

What a difficult time!

Working extra hours to ignore the lack.

Six months have passed,

bleackness has dissipated. 

Sorrounded by loving beings.

And the moon.

Why are you hiding?-she said.

And I went off the bubble.

I learned to strive 

around concrete.

To appreciate and 

feel the grass.

In green spaces, and pure air.

To assimilate crowds 

and smile under pressure.

Bye, New York.

Thanks for the rush,

the pressure,

the solitude.

But most importantly,

thanks for the apprenticeship.