A Love Letter to the City that Never Sleeps

New York is 
Something that can't be repeated, copied, replaced
There's something about the concrete jungle that is only there and nowhere else
The scent 
Of sweltering city in the summer

The garbage
The heat 
The cheap perfume
The concrete 
The sewage
The food carts
The soapy smell that appears no matter what the neighborhood
The pizza
The exhaust
The gasoline
The grass of Central Park
The new clothes

The ecstacy of the ferry ride
The blisters that don't seem to bother you anymore because you're here
In the city that never sleeps
The subway
Where you find people asking for money and business men and women wearing expensive suits
The smell of the subway
Hot and musty and full of old forgotten things 
The hotels with door holders that look bored
The carpets that stretch to the sidewalk but never look dirty
The buildings as high as you can look without wincing from looking at the sun
The sidewalks and shouting and musty used bookstores

There's something magical in the way Manhattan pulls you in 
There's something magical in the way Manhattan pulls you out
There's something magical about Manhattan

Full of old wishes and stale wishes and new, shiny wishes
Shiny like the lights that never go out
That never go out in the city
You could keep walking 
You could keep stopping and looking and eating and watching 
But eventually you must sleep
But the city around you will still be going, and while you sleep it may go about its business a little more quietly, but you wouldn't know
You are in the world of imaginary dreams, but you are lucky enough to wake up in the city that is full to bursting with wishes that you have yet to think of