The air is thick with sound
Horns of cabs fighting over fairs
Buskers at the corners, plying their talent in trade
For a fiver or two
The street is warm from the days sun, and the rub of feet
Moving almost in unison toward one place or other

Even as I walk with and against the crowd of faces
I feel at ease, as I sway with the circulation of air mixed with all the pollution
New York City has to offer
I am seaweed
And the ocean of the Big Apple
Has me at its mercy