New York is not New   New York is not New the subways are steel worms eating at the guts of the city And I have seen it, ghosts rising in a cold October sky Brought to my knees by the towering gravestones hundreds of stories in the air The hundred stories of ordinary people living ordinary lives with extraordinary conclusionsP> Let me tell one to you: A 32 year old actress living with 4 roommates in 1 Harlem flat waiting for her 1 break 1 face face built for Checkov 1 body a die cast leaving no impressions She's 1 in a city of thousands meeting 1 brokenhearted traveller negotiating thousands of streets made familiar A French speaking native New yorker for ten years makes it so And I have seen it, a sky lit by sky lights Sushi supped in Midnight cafes faces lit by candlelight Young men reading angry poetry at the Nuyurican and St. Marks And I have seen her, a desperate woman with a hand outstretched Catchingos for the latest fix And I have seen it, a gravesite tourist trap selling tchotckes for the passerby Ground Zero, where the tourists go Buy yer tchockes here!" A photo of the dead for you A big fat hole in the ground, 16 acres to bury the dead on hollowed ground and still it isn't enough And I have heard it, a sweet harmonica and guitar band overamplified, bleeding into the city streets And I have felt it, a fear as I walked across a shrouded Thompkins Square A wife divorcing me a continent away And who will I tell this to, my tale of a city on fire? to the wind, and to the wind it is given Time to go home, take a step onto a plane and disappear into thin air.