A New York City Memory I Remembered in Punta Cana

On the corner of 42nd and some other street, I watched it all happening
There were buses, strollers and horns bleeding out of cars like notes from organs in conflicting keys
Cars wrapped around people like unopened Christmas gifts that nobody wanted
Nobody but me

I laid a blanket of silence over the noise
And suddenly it was all beautiful
It was all perfect
It was all exactly what it was,
A curtain in front of the stage pretending to be the show