a not so love-y poem for v-day

commercial love is in manhattan

in svelte form, commanding
like stilettos stalking down soho
eyeing their pray on
prowling hot pavement and

what will you do?
as thick as eyelashes
masking unshy fears
mispronounced in subways:
a womanly gloom and
independence unproud.       
O new york!

city of desperation, of
glamorous, refined animals
petrified in silent heat
perforated by
the
          stench
                           of          it 
                                 all.   
 and you think that:
 the chubby mexican boy
who never gets it right

the sad asian waif
eating chocolates alone
            candy hearts
 the thin man balding
to nobody’s attention --
are the only singular
longing souls?

(photo via glamour)