A Year of Struggle

Any tourist visiting the Big Apple has noticed a big change in attitude; everyone rushes by looking sad and acting rude, " Our city has gone through a year of struggle!" All cafes are shutting down, my City Cafe' too, I came here on weekend and read my poetry to everyone; my fellow poets acclaimed, I hated the deriding boo of a passerby who knew nothing about how to write one. I'm stuck in the Big Apple, I could leave Gotham* and go to another city as vibrant as Amsterdam... would I find the same enthusiasm from words spoken vividly? Will young people listen and learn how to write good poetry? Life has lost its vibrancy in the Melting Spot, smiles are gone and all the friendliness has cooled off, it's a cross on Calvary... when one thinks of death and nothing else, instead of clinging to hope; can a glass of Bordeaux change the sad mood and break their sobriety? Pfizer seems promising, volunteers line up to get inoculated, other are skeptical and rather wait, their cynicism is unreal; many have lost their dear ones and fear to be in a hospital bed, Trump is proud of his accomplishment and that's his last squeal. The city that has never slept will return to certain normality, no masks or distancing are required after ninety days; the livelihood it had and the death toll is a tremendous loss, the nostalgia echoes in all, but stronger is the desire to live freely. GOTHAM: New York City