new york city won't slow for short legs
so girl adapts
stretches her neck, a growing vine, 
hovering high over all the bankers and shoppers short on time,
quickens her pace, an eyelash tossed by the breeze,
tripping over cracks and heart-broken mothers
with bad backs
lengthens her stride, a tall tale without an end,
each step another cliffhanger
​
one must wear good shoes to keep up with the concrete jungle accent 
sharp tongue racing the subway to every platform
crowding tourists out of the way with well-timed snark 

sometimes, my toes point northward and i remember
where i come from 
from here, a college town cupped in the palm of north carolina,
as my mouth falls open just a little, not running anywhere at all

I didn't post a 
poem for NaPoWriMo
Day 1. April Fools?