Arsenic Boutique

Back home from three days in Manhattan. Crummy old stink town, filled with ersatz shopping mall street front high end dollar sucking stores and black stretch sport utility vehicles blocking every cross walk, and mobs of police on every corner. I swear the city is malodorous in a new way—odor of Trump. Then I spent ten hours trapped in JFK, my flight home endlessly delayed. Finally got back to Syracuse late last night. My guide dog Caitlyn held her pee in the airport like a drug addict.

I used to love New York. I mean really love it. Now, at sixty, I feel an alarm in the city akin to what Lorca felt when he attended Columbia University back in the twenties. Lorca was so horrified as he walked around he imagined arsenic lobsters falling from the skies.

God Almighty. As the folk singer Greg Brown sang: “America will eat you up.”

 

One thought on “Arsenic Boutique

  1. I loved New York, too, and left it eighteen years ago with much sadness. Out here on the sunny west coast, though, I can smell it. It doesn’t smell good, like you said.

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