I heart NYC by Anthony Quintano
Plain Talk
No meat and potatoes either
Gave that stuff up
Just nuts and berries for me
A salad or two or three
I wish I could write with them fancy words
Not my style though
Just a ranch hand in a urban money town
Favorite black t shirt has holes in it
I call it air conditioning
Cranking the night shift at the poem factory
Good thing they don’t pay me by the word
I’d be busted and broke
No thanks Mister
Pay me in cash
I ain’t pretty but I sure can spew
You’ve read my words
Truth brothers and sisters
Only the lonely
I’m writing your story
I think this might just be the final Do the Math poem in my Missed Connections poetry archive. DtM was pretty active on the NYC forum a few years back and I enjoyed their gritty, no-nonsense words. Perhaps they’re still cranking the night shift at the poem factory, turning out love letters to a city under siege.
