I plan to write a poem about how, after many years in New York, having masturbated all my urban desires to satisfaction, it occurred to that I now rarely do new things.
So I go for a walk and think about how to change that.
I decide that I must do something new, everyday, that I’ve never done before; to add to the list of urban experiences of New York, lest that list stop growing. And to refresh my perspective.
The first day, I decide to deliberately step
in Dog Poo.
And it is liberating…
(The poem would be a short, amuse-bouche of a thing, called something
cute, like “Poo York City,” or “Metropoolis”)
Anyways, that’s my plan.