When my nerve wore down,
I was assailed by simple little sounds:
hammer clangs, sirens in the park,
like I never heard New York.
Blaring brakes, trapped trucks
honking horns, hissing buses stuck,
shrieking trains barreling berserk,
like I never heard New York.
When the room grew loud,
I learned to stand in back, behind the crowd,
dam canals with cork,
like I never heard New York.
But when the walls gave way,
I had to flee, I had to back away
as the whole town barked,
like I never heard New York.
