It’s a windy and cold nerve-wracking day.
I’m sitting too long in a car on Broadway.
Spring must be near, but feels too far away.
People walk by screaming or silent --- they go away.
From the bottom of a pit looking at stars.
Street is too narrow for crowds and cars.
One should never call it a broad way,
And to be sitting here is not my way.
Wanting to return to a smaller place.
Being here feels like a rat in a maze.
But like everyone else I am stuck and trapped
In this place too big to escape feeling zapped.