The Underbelly

Not everything here is blooming.

There is still waste in the street and the slick of grease in the air. Rats curve through her architecture. Poverty is a disease. Just because a city is alive doesn't mean it is without illness. 

The girls here have the privilege to go hungry every day. They will spend their last penny to sweat with miserable company to fit in. When my friends eat, we talk about eating. We are keenly aware of every piece of matter that goes in and often aware of what comes out. Sometimes what is sick here is generic.

Some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in New York were the least alive.