Why did we come to New York? We came because we were born elsewhere.
We came for the scarcity and smoke. We came for its future. We came for a girl, or a boy, the idea of coming for girls or boys. We came for school, or a band, or a scene, or a poster of a band from a scene in a room at a school. We came for a borough. We came because New York means “next” in the language of hometown.
We came to follow the hollow inside. We came for books, or media, or because New York is book and medium, because they are every one a map drawn on top of the others. We came as fools and philosophers and philosopher fools. We came for culture’s restrictive vestments. We came because we’re romantics, or purists, or outcasts, or self-re-inventors, or frauds and poseurs and needing machines who want to say we’re from an adopted somewhere else. We came for the waters.
We came because it’s a fix, and it’s cult, and it’s sensation, and it’s where it is. We came because New York isn’t and isn’t satisfied with not being it. We came because residence fills the cracks in a rhetorical question of living. We came because we had nowhere else to go. We came because going elsewhere is a choice, and coming to New York is not really a choice. We came because the gravity is strong and we are weak, and we came because we fought hard to get here. We came because we now know better or never will. We came because we walked away.
We came for tautology. We came because this is where the leavers come. We came because its own story is a running stream and we came for its current. We came because everything here is everyone gets everything. We came because we are hungry and arrogant. We came because it’s hard and that’s what we’ve come to deserve.
We came for one another. It was good. We came just in time.
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