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A friend called today asking me how I like New York City.
I wanted to tell her how I really felt:
 
That Frank Sinatra can go fuck himself, 
“If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere,“
as if residing here is like making love on a waterbed that’s half-full or half-empty;
 
That New York City is three fingers of whisky that could corrode a toilet bowl, neat;
you mask the mouth fire with a gritty poker face, compliment its notes, 
and check your chest for hair;
 
That the Big Apple is a collection of Greatest Hits compact discs,
and to be a New Yorker is to be a model on a photo shoot for a motivational poster--
posing at the foot of a mountain you’re never actually going to climb;
 
Instead, I told her what I tell the cousin I see once a year at my family Christmas party:
“It’s great. You should come visit sometime.”

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Written & Performed Drew Farrell
Produced & Edited Jonathan Hirsch