New York! O New York! How you gawk?!: A poem 

I can see the streets of New York City 

are none too pretty; but like sub-terranean  

caverns overturned from Hades, crusting out 

to breathe in your apple air. And how you gawk 

at your new-found dispensation. Do you look across 

the Atlantic to share kindred feelings with a wooden 

continent that looks to the apparently biggest object  

in the nightsky, for the future; in sheer animosity  

to Donald Trump? Do you want wine and the love  

of Gemini? or are they just blaspheme against the loony left  

Moon for you would be crabs, to be pied piped your way 

into some swarmy gutter, where your destiny will be 

laid to rest. Your concrete, steel and glass may just as well 

shatter to the wisdom of Allah’s misogynistic catcall 

Hasn’t Mamdani warned your women of it before? 

Would his mayoral salutation open the floodgates 

to a prevalent culture of women in hijab, or worse, burkha; 

or stoning to death for adultery, which is a quite an addiction  

with your lot? Or would your numerous faggots find failure  

of rights in the forest of their current cruising? Live for this 

jurisdiction! But don’t you worry! I know that all Muslims are  

bisexuals, and worse, paedophiles (even the Ayatollah is).   

So, you can all enjoy both ways, and leave some for your kids as well!