Joe Maynard

Joe Maynard is editor/publisher of the pornographic Pink Pages (and several other little press ventures) in NYC, and can be reached at maynard_joe@hotmail.com

When I lived in New York

all I could think about

was the moist climate

and how it must have smelled

inside an Iroquois hut.

The clouds roll

as solemn as a Hudson River School Painting.

The tides glisten

flooding inlets

on the banks of the East River

with a soothing slap

as if naked in a holy wedding chamber,

as if hundreds of windows

weren't facing the forgotten patch of rustling reeds

on the soft shoulder of Breukelen

(swamp land).

In Central Park

an Iowa tourist

plays out his dream

in a horse-drawn carriage

he rented for himself, guitar and family

(but mostly himself)

at sixty dollars an hour

so he could sing "Imagine"

as they clip-clop past Stawberry Fields.

You can look up at budding trees

under which a yuppied couple

shares a mozzarella, basil and tomato sandwich

while the sky scrapers turn to mud

under an upside-down adobe sky

finally emptied of yesterday's rain.

The earth can gobble up the sky,

let alone sky scraper.

I won't even mention

the fat black chick

in sweats and Walkman,

power-walking

the flesh from her magnificent ass

while belting out gospel lyrics

from her angelic lungs.

Joe Maynard