New York, New York

Two Far Niente’s running through me I am   ready…

for the night to come in to   take   me The stroke of midnight to tick, tick new— complete    and kiss me.

*   *   *

“Looks like   you need to get in here”, says New Yorker to [me] the Gypsy.

I smile,   step up, he lifts and cheers my empty cup.

“You need a drink, what are you drinking?” “Chardonnay” says [me] the Gypsy.

*   *   *

Sleek and polished, like a present wrapped in gold, Christmas eve night Under the Beach Tree light, he stood there looking shiny, beautiful,  bright.

*   *   *

He was kind, yes very kind, as he handed me my wine. Oh New York, Oh New York… Oh you New Yorker.

“Come this way”, he says and guides me, as we dive into the flurry New Years Eve blinged-out young dresses Breaking stride,  as we bump tresses.

“You are too nice”, New Yorker says, “I can tell     — not from the city. “I am not”, replies the Gypsy.

“I will teach you, you must be taught, you need a spine     hard as rock”

“Please do teach me, I’d like to learn, to be  colder like a New Yorker”.

“You need    another Chard before we step onto the dance floor”

Chard in hand, Gin in his, we’re on the floor and then…

we danced.

*   *   *

We danced, and danced.

*   *   *

The band played waves swayed,  night young our  stage  won—  moon laughed, as we swayed all night all night long [just as you   would imagine a  Gypsy girl with a New Yorker].

*   *   *

I met his friends   who gave me beads— I lost my hat,   my heart— and my golf cart.

*   *   *

I got my kiss, my New Years kiss, then resolved to   never dance   again

Unless,  with a New Yorker… while the band plays, and waves are crashing like in the movies [fireworks exploding] As on my New Years, New Years Eve —2013.

Then on the beach, we kissed again, under the moon he held my hand The first of January is when it happened The beach of Hualalai with my New Yorker.

We kissed all night. Moon sunk, as  sun spoke up, “It’s time I rise, you must be going…“

*   *   *

The crack of dawn, I strolled home   slowly Thinking of  New York,  New York oh   you   New  yorker.

*   *   *

“I’m glad I met you”, he messaged later “I’m eating eggs, and turkey bacon. Flight leaves at noon, I must be going I hope I see you, soon again”

And then the story ends

On pen… yet not in my head

Because it’s midnight, and we’re still kissing, the moon is laughing, the band is playing We’re acting care-free,   we are happy

…still in my head.

New York, Oh my New York, Oh you New Yorker.