Dear friend on the other side of the world, Today I am sending you

a model of my city.

Place it on your dresser

so you can smell the

salty air by the East River,

hear skateboards rolling

over the concrete street,

see cars driving on back roads,

hear the wind zooming

through the wavy trees and

the still, still buildings,

see the lights on the Brooklyn

Bridge making shadows in the water.

So you can hear music

that calls you like

Pavlov's dog and makes you

want to run to the

truck and eat ice cream,

smell the omelets

and the french toast

and the salad

coming from Hope and

Anchor in Brooklyn

Taste the black and white cookies and

smoked salmon coming from

the restaurant on Barclay Street,

and the salty french fries,

see the taxis driving fast like a cheetah.

So you can see the seagulls

wings flapping

like a bumblebee,

see the bikers' adrenaline

pumping on the bike trail,

the silent buildings all in a

row like a graveyard on Bleecker Street,

hear the ferry crashing through

the big waves in the water,

see the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center.

So you can climb a skyscraper.

Climb to the top

and wave to me

Then please, please

come visit me.

*Inspired by "Dear Friend in the Desert" by Kristine O'Connell George