Arlene Corwin Poetry

     Every Six Years

Every six years I go back to New York;

To names I know, each trendy show;

Yet little has changed because progress is slow –

So, nothing has changed

And I don’t feel estranged in the least.

I feast on hot bagels and New York Chinese,

Talk to the family in Los Angeles,

Read all the ads and compare all the prices;

I’m much more a woman with woman’s devices.

People talk tougher, are love-starved and scared;

While I take the dare to be flirted with, stared at,

Which nowadays, seems to be labeled ‘harassment’

And I, old New Yorker, feel no such embarrassment.

I am aware of the ‘state of the nation’:

All of the –udes,-ewds-oods giving it station:

Nudity, crudity, prudery, lewdness,

Rudeness, American shrewdness,

The foreign food all yummy good;

Every institution sued –

Few doing as they ought or should.

Tempting, lulling,

Pushing, pulling,

Bringing out my greedy streak,

Ambition-seeking –

Goods, pelf;

Yearning for elusive self.

Dear old New York, spacious U.S.,

I’m crushed by your press –

So subtly woven that no one would guess

It exists, except for the few

Who go back every half-dozen years for a view.

©Every Six Years 97.12.21

Our Times, Our Culture; A Mystic Visits Thousand Oaks;

Arlene Corwin