Part 1 - Did I really go to NYC today? - High Line - Poem - A New Kind of Car

Here I am, sitting on my red couch, having finished my dinner salad, and remembering the fab day I had!

The day began at 6:30 when the BRRRRR of my alarm clock woke me up.

Time to get ready to drive to Cheltenham High School to make the 7:45 am bus for the "Ship and Shore" Trip to NYC.

First, tho, I needed to finish a poem and mail it to Judy Diaz, my therapist friend in Niwot, CO, along with a copy of my Mother's Day article from the Intelligencer. My printer is also a scanner so I printed out two copies, one for her and one for my client "Loretta."

See! People know there's something different about me, purrs the Nissan Cube.


A NEW KIND OF CAR

We’ve heard
of John Keats’
delight upon
opening Chapman’s
Homer and thrilling
to its many battle scenes
its thrusts of sword that
bled out the best
men of their times.

I am weary of death
too much on the
evening news
my delight comes
by surprise when
swimming into view
brings not the
lady hummingbird
with her taste for
all things meringue-
sweet.

But euphoria attends
with the faintest view
like a sliver of moon
behind Charlie's dogwood
of what might be a
rocking chair on wheels.

The history of
all conveyances
is borne on that
graceful but
assymetrical
Arabian palanquin
where Scheherazade
dreams yet another tale.

Is this what they mean
by the Nissan Cube?
Do all heads turn
like my own?

I shall imprint
its look of wedding
finery, the undulating
of the sexy red poppy
and the perfection of
a peacock feather
and dream of
The Cube when life
seems too much
to bear.


WHAT ... you only took 138 photos! Glad you restrained yourself, she said sarcastically.

Look! I said to seatmate Kenna. They have a carpet on the ceiling.

That's for when the bus rolls over on the side of the road, I said. Like in my short story Pandemonium.

ALL WEEK we've been waiting for it to rain. Sure looked like it would rain on our trip. The day dawned with no color in the sky - gray, if you must - but as the day wore on the sun broke out in a huge smile from Philadelphia to New York City.

Kenna and I were pals for the day. We really got to know one another. She's an excellent walker with an excellent sense of direction.

HIGH LINE PHOTOS

The general "feel" of the place is reminiscent of trains - train tracks, turnstiles, waiting rooms, railings. You find these reminders all over. 

 Let's sit in these 'bleachers' and gaze over the city.

Birches, let's swing from birches, Bobby.

 Dozens of groups of schoolchildren were there this Tuesday.

 I went nuts when I saw the bldg in the distance. Is it the Whitney Museum? Nay!

Read about the new Whitney, designed by Renzo Piano.

  It's in the heart of the old meat-packing district - now Chelsea - where The High Line is. The High Line is a mile and a half long.

 Here's my new pal Kenna. Her name is the female version of Ken. She and her late husband Robt ran clothing shops in Philadelphia.

 Paid staff and volunteers took good care of the land. See them sitting on old tracks? The park is open from 7 am to 10 pm.

Sculpture in the form of graffiti.

 A tree grows in Chelsea.

 High Line maintenance bicycle.

Toot! Toot!

 What happened? Twisted his ankle playing tennis. Doctor says he must walk with a crutch.

 Hey, let's sit in the bleachers and watch the people strolling by.

 What, pray tell, is this huge colorful sculpture?

Sit here on this huge couch, outside your apartment bldg, and gaze upward at the Sky Line or High Line.

 Elevators bring the elderly up to the High Line. Kenna's mom lived to be 105. She died last year. Was in her own home in State College and had wonderful aides, including a woman who'd been with her for 8 years.

 This is a working drinking fountain. Water lover that I am, I took a sip. It tasted like.... water.

Many new apartments have sprung up in this Chelsea neighborhood. I loved the stippled look of the metal, below. This is also a glimpse of someone's apartment.

Too bad Hitchcock isn't around to make another Rear Window.

 View from on high. Years and years ago, Kenna lived in Manhattan and worked at Bloomingdale's.

 Invisible shield to prevent throwing of rocks.

I mean, wow, just wow.

Depth perception.

Remember Piaget?





Look down this gully and you'll see "My Mom's Pepsi Bottles" or some such title.

 What a great T-shirt I said to this woman, whose name I forget. Click to enlarge.

It's American authors, she said, standing up to show it off.

Are you from New York? we asked.

No, she said, she's visiting a friend.

No one's from New York, said Kenna and me, laffing.

 Japanese dogwood in distance. The regular dogwood is dead already!

Hmm, what should I do with my old mirror?

Diane von Furstenberg: Donate it to the High Line!

We're hungry and want to eat!

We're inside this huge indoor mall.

It's the CHELSEA MARKET. The Internet tells all. 

Teeny-tiny light bulbs form a silver curtain.

Enter, please, and mangia mangia!

 Salmon with zucchini for me and Spinach Quiche for Kenna.

This is very hard to see. Lemme help you.

Kenna bought a pocketbook which has a design of the NYC subway line.

How clevah!!!

Take a break, folks. Grab some unsalted peanuts like I just did. And then we'll continue with Part Two.