Poem

All the old haunts are gone.
Dave's record store;
the old deli on Second Avenue
The hot dog stand on Sixth Avenue

So many new places, overpriced and overrated.
Never saw so many frozen yogurt shops.
First of all, how many people are into frozen yogurt?
Second, who wants frozen yogurt on a cold and snowy February day?

Saint Mark's Place is still bustling
The dollar pizza shops remind me
of the days of cheap rents, greasy spoons
And head shops
Dinner could be had for about a dollar
Jazz and rock rhythms emanated from the clubs
Into the humid July air.

The central meeting place is filled
With musicians,gyrating men and women
Poets and orators and philosophers rapping  
Through a haze of marijuana smoke   

Surveying the current scene
I am a stranger in a foreign land.
I once believed that the city belonged to the people
Now it isn't mine anymore.