Places the subway took me      They said  “This city never sleeps”.  At first  These streets were just another road  But,  I couldn’t resist  the lights wrapped around,  the square of time,  Maintained a constant motion---spinning those red white-yellow, flashing  Neon-lights  coca-cola signs and  M&M world belched out this city  A place.  Not my home but I noticed,  The same decaying man.  Looking like the smell of piss,  And for a  quarter or a half eaten sandwich,  I wondered what he had done  Living.    People.  So many people  pulsating through the veins of  New York,  New York,  has its own  sound.  rhythm  Sounds  Rhythms    They like to sing.  On subways and open plat forms,  Blowing their souls, strumming hungry melodies,  Easing the  sardine-stuffed-in-a-moving-can like feeling out of  Strangers  --huddle close during the rushed hours  And if,  You chance to,  Peak  Out  the window.  Above  or below the shoulder of someone  Wait  for the moment when the two tin trains  Align  Fast motion  Faces,  Briefly pausing for your eye glance before they  stretch out, multicolored gum-like, smudge paint, blurry, on to the next  moment.  Depending on where you’re going.    But I liked east Harlem  The people were honest,  Walking down 125th street,  drifting between history And  Obama merchandise  in every window  and behind every stand  They sell  fruit.  Everywhere.  Same fruit.  Different prices.  Many people,  Several lives  Tightly woven together and apart  In  This city  Every one speaks Spanish  If you ride the train long enough  China has its own town  In New York,  I remember  Them marching,  In Arab kifiya  The green, red, black, white flags  Fluttering, demanding the world to explain those lives  Lower west side  Filled in the streets for Palestine  Shaloem!  New York,  Not a melting pot but the reality of the world  In one small dose,  Hate or love  5th ave,  The corner sporting them subway rats---  The air smells the same.