Ugly Tourist

Is there anything colder

Than winter

In the city

In the winter

Where it is oh so windy

And the blizzard makes your veins

Into frozen rivers

Oozing of ice and atrophy

Statues littered

With the graffiti of broken swear words

And lovers

Sitting huddled next to

The lake

With the ducks

All in a row

Their broken hearts

From their exes

Existing in the gutters off of Monroe

And

There are houses

Fitted with crooked

Heaters

That make the squatters

Dream of sweaty feet

From the August sun

This is winter

Here in the city

Where the only real way to have fun

Is to ice skate

And then trip over to

That Yelp reviewed coffee place

Where you’ll hold your mug like a prayer

And it even whispers secrets in your ear

This is what love feels like

When it’s cold as all hell outside

And you only want to hide

But you can’t

Because your apartment actually sucks

Due to all of the shitty housing accommodations

No fireplace

Just the lingering smell of rat poison

Because it’s winter here in this shady city

Where nuns get cigarettes for free

And that old Jewish lady

Just swore at you

In a language you were too lazy to learn

In grade 3

And even though it’s winter in this cold, cold city

You still get hot

Because your cheap sweater

Is so itchy

But you love it here

Somehow, someway

Even though you constantly get glared at

On the subway

And everyone is complaining

About the local Brie

Not being as good as the one in the cooler French city

So pack your bags

Or hitch a ride

It’s winter and you may not be able to feel your toes

But Goddamit

You still have to see the Empire State Building

And you still have to wander the freezing streets

To see everyone falling in and out of love,

Or out of their company car

Because they got

Way too hammered at the downtown bar

So don’t worry!

Ugly tourist

From the little city

This is winter

And you can cover

Your fat face for free

With an even itchier matching beanie

And you won’t ever have to worry

About what you said awkwardly

To that hot guy

Who mistook you for a friend who borrowed a fuck ton of his money

to buy cocaine and a little “action”

This is the fucking city

And in Winter

No one cares

Because they’re just as ugly

And they’re just as freezing

And they don’t want to do anything

But cuddle the one they call lover

And wander the bookshelves in conquest

Of the next great philosopher

If I were you, ugly tourist,

I’d pack my bag

And head there immediately

And you might get lucky

And see some cool shit for free

Like the homeless druggie

Hawking a loogie

This is winter in the city, baby

Didn’t you hear?

Ain’t nothing for free

Except your hope and your eventual misery

I love my crusty assed, overly grumpy

Entirely frigid

Big city

Because I don’t have to be anyone

Except for me

And I will love that

Into eternity.

Goodbye good ol’ southern hospitality

Instead prepare yourself

To get berated

For talking to that bum

And anyway

Even if you have no money after

You can still survive off of the city nightlife

Who said 3 martinis were for weenies?

And you’ll finally figure out why most people consider this place hell

So why oh, oh why

Does winter in the city

Feel so….home-y

I love you troubled city

Because you are me

Hazy one day

And fucking feral the next

What a dream

What a dream

To be part of something major

At last!

Rejoice ugly tourist

Because finally no one cares about

Your fat ass

And everyone here is just as desperate

To be

A part of something big someday

That’s the only real reason

To put up with the last place

That anyone with any sanity

Would choose

I’m telling you,

Try winter in the city

And see if you don’t go a little crazy

See if you don’t go a little loony

See if you don’t over romanticize

Everything BUT the beauty of this city

That you will get right

Because everyone would love to visit

Before they die

Just to say they saw buildings

That hang like glass mansions

In the night sky

And maybe if they’re lucky

They’ll see a shooting star

Flying by

And maybe if they’re even luckier

They might even kiss a cute guy

Or girl

Or whatever they’re into

Because winter in this city is anything but judgy

It just is

And it always will be

I hope for your sake

Ugly tourist

You take all of the pictures

You kiss all of the pigeons

(Theoretically speaking)

Because you’ll never be as free as you are

When you get lost

And are too scared of everyone to ask for directions

So come with me

And we can get lucky together

We might even make the Sunday paper

“Two idiot tourists, moon the Catholic masses, because they were high as hell and drunk off their asses.”