Beautiful, April 7, 2012

The Town Hall

New York, NY

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It is so beautiful, it is so beautiful, April in the city
Crocuses, tulips and daffodils planted by the municipal flower committee
In windowboxes and around lamppost and under the tree
Surviving car exhaust and the shoes of small children and dog pee

All along Park Avenue, on the median strips,
A cascade of yellow tulips.
And in front of the library, tulips in a solid line.
In Central Park, the dogwood is in bloom, fragrant sumac, spicebush, geraniums, and wild columbine,
And magnolia trees, in full bloom, white and pink,
The smell is like a very intoxicating drink
And you feel as if a beautiful woman is standing hand in hand with ya
Or is that the forsythia?

Flowers burgeoning, lavishly libidinous and licentious
People taking pictures with cellphones and cameras with big lenses
Couples hand a camera to a friendly passerby
And pose, against the buildings and the clear blue sky,
And if you’re out walking past certain scenic spots,
You could wind up taking a lot of other people’s snapshots.

In the stores, white dresses, linen pants, and straw hats for children on the shelves,
And Easter eggs and Peeps and chocolate bunnies as big as the children themselves,
And pots of blooming daffodils, white and yellows,
And Matzoh flour and Manischewitz and kosher marshmallows.

At Central Park, the rowboats are out on the lake and the ducks and ducklings and geese
And in this light it looks like a Cezanne masterpiece
And the trees are budding against a blue sky with streaks of cloud like white fleece
And the greens and blue and white are maybe by Matisse.

And children stroll by with backpacks and packs on their fannies
And their various multicultural nannies,
A man with buzzed hair and bright green sneakers on his feet,
A 7 foot transsexual with a birdcage holding a green parakeet
And nobody turns and stares
Nor at the man in white robe standing and saying his prayers.
Bikers whiz as you take a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
With hundreds of other pilgrims making their pilgrimage
On a gorgeous sunny day and a guy up ahead
Is telling about how a cable snapped once and suddenly a whole bunch of innocence people lay dead
And so it feels like you have crossed the Red Sea with the Israelites
When you reach Brooklyn Heights
And walk along the Promenade in the sweet sunshine
And look at the stupendous Manhattan skyline
That when they see it on a movie screen in Beijing or Bombay
Or Mongolia, they know it is the U.S.A.
The lady with the lamp, the bridges, the island with tall towers,
And now in April, streets that are lined with flowers.

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