Times Square

It's the antithesis of a monastery,
assaulting the eyes and ears,
trying to draw me out, but instead
forcing me to retreat into myself.

The music pumping out of the
sunglasses store is so deafening that
customers must yell to be heard.

Adults are wearing mismatched
superhero costumes that a precocious
three year old could see through
while tourists and ticket sellers
pair off in a sidewalk pas de deux.

Broadway billboards boast of
being the best in some particularity:
longest running, newest, a Tony
for this and a Tony for that with
hyperbole from the New York Post.

The smell of honey-roasted nuts
mix with cigarette smoke and
the grilled meat of street vendors.

It’s overwhelming and underwhelming

all at the same time.