Manhattan
Anne Guevarra
There's that feeling of humid air brushing one's face,
The odor of smoke bursting from the yellow taxis, seeping into our clothes.
The sounds of cars honking, snarling, and screeching in traffic on the busy streets
ring in one's ear.
Skyscrapers, tall buildings, shopping stores in every block
Echo the voices of preachers who preach, sellers who sell,
Louder and louder as one gets nearer
"The city that never sleeps"... down East 84th street.
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