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New York MAG
  It’s the way the autumn rain
  flings a rhythm on the metal roof
  of the taxi, an insistent knocking
  against my skull like fingers
  peeling meter off a poem
  that makes the brown water
  coursing down the city drains,
  match the motion of tires
  as it glides over cigarettes and concrete
  in a rush of static,
  while pulsing beneath wet coats,
  hearts keeping speed with the blinks
  of the orange hand flashing
  across oil-slicked streets
  join together as one messy throb,
  one cadence, one voice
  in this city of life.

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In the few times that I've been to New York, I have always been inspired by the energy and vitality which comes with traveling in this diverse city, even if the day is cold and gloomy.