Manhattan Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I know nothing of this place,
I vaguely have a clue about
Its pleasantries,
The city buoys,
And the places to go to,
But if you want to,
That’s fine with me.

I’ve not any time,
And it is past 10: 19 in the evening
Where you found me,
And I found you
Freezing simultaneously
Underneath the bustling Sun.
Does the Sun shine
That intense in Manhattan?

Is Manhattan a place,
Or a state of mind?
I don’t know.
It rained so hard last night,
And I thought,
Did it rain in Manhattan too?
The shadows drowned
Underneath the stationary puddles
Of tainted blackwater and I thought,
Do the shadows drown
In Manhattan?
In a Manhattanesque soliloquy?

You want a dining table
Underneath the Manhattan scenery.
I wanted to tell you,
“We’re still under the same stars,
Constellations, moon.”
And you wouldn’t listen.
The azure craned its head
To tell you to listen to me,
But you never did
And I was led into your intoxication.
You slid unto your Manhattan daydreams.

What if we arrive at Manhattan
Where the snow is different?
Where the currents are timid
And the people are tepid?
Would you moor yourself to me,
Just like the people in this world do?
When we cross the street,
Would you talk about
How I look under the Manhattan moon,
And not talk about Manhattan itself?
Don’t tell me.
Be the agile, cunning muse that you are.

And what if,
The winters last too long in Manhattan?
And what if the summers
Were abrupt?
What if I shivered with the stars at night
And yield their distances?
Would you leave me
Underneath the Manhattan moon,
Amid the Manhattan winter warfare
And explore the city
Alone?