Coffee on the terrace of the penthouse
Morning on 49th Street, Radio City
Rockefeller Plaza, a few hundred feet away
Columns of concrete, glass and steel push up into the powder blue sky
Green-copper spires reflected in mirrors one thousand feet tall
Their soft patina wavering in the sunlight
A curious pigeon comes to greet me
The sounds of the city are pressing
A steady drone of HVAC permeates the atmosphere
Sirens wail and saws whine, over the drone of engines
As the arhythmic clang of steel on steel fills the air with hollow
waves
While all around me hammers fall
The city hums with a ghostly bustle
