to my first love

“you don’t get to hate [New York City] unless you love [New York City]”

Float like a pigeon, sting like the words from the man down the street: “move out of the f*c*ing way!”

to nyc, my first love.

& just when I thought I could never love you again, my senses stimulated rapidly, my heart pounced, and I swooned. Swooned harder than the hobo who screamed out “nice ass” to the Latina with the cherry red lipgloss clicking her gum. 

I can do that too. 

Click gum not scream “nice ass…”

I mean…I could, but I’d rather not. Not today.  

I digress. 

I swooned harder than the man who sprinkled red rose petals down 14th and 6th avenue awaiting his Mrs— Pedestrians cooed and watched and stared,

“that’s hella cute, deadass

And although I defamed your name the last time I saw you, I can’t help but to fall in love again. You reek of sweet cheese, loud, and existential sweat—it’s 39 degrees Fahrenheit, about 4 degrees Celsius (for my international readers, I love you). 

Is this city eating me alive?” I swore I heard a Columbia grad yuppie think out loud.

Many moons ago, exiting the train station, I stood on the concrete, in the jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can do to take them back. You gave me independence and lead me to places that gave me the realist dose of reality when I dreamed a dream far too large to reach. Defeated at every ave/street corner, waiting for the light to turn as no one does, I looked up to you and said goodbye.

Stepping out of my flesh prison, I watched her taking all of you in… arms wide open ready for the final embrace, inhaling every stench you radiated. Simultaneously, she clasped her fingers into a fist, cursed your name as pedestrians cursed at her:

“move out of the f*c*ing way!” 

I giggled, stepped back into the body that creaked at the the big age of 25, and whispered 



We danced as unrequited love took residency in one of souls every 6 weeks. You were cold to me in the beginning, blunt and harsh to me soon after but have given me warm side-hugs the past couple years. We’ve exchange a few passionate kisses and concluded with an argument that ate me alive for weeks on end. With slow departure, I bid you adieu.  

& to leave you again, I feel powerful. 

A rat scurried by my peripheral and only exacerbated the emotion…

I still love you, but for all of that… “move out of the f*c*ing way,” and I’ll see you next time, nyc…



For all the cities I’ve cheated on you with, you will always be my first love. 

Using Format