The lights of the city glitter like diamonds
In the view from my hotel room on the twenty-first floor.
The subway station is far away here,
And the harmonies of the Moonlight Sonata
Drown out remembered strains of an off-tune harmonica--
The mourning of lips too ragged to smile.
Sipping chilled Stolichnaya from a champagne glass,
My mind relaxes with the memories of the day:
An exchange of goodwill on a dirty platform
With the harried young professional in rumpled Armani,
The stares in our direction from the man in the corner
Taking swigs from a brown paper bag.
When I look out, standing beside brocade curtains,
At the crown of jewels the horizon is wearing--
The lights that flicker like diamonds in the distance,
The cars like rubies passing in parade below--
I cannot help but think how beautiful the city is
Just from my room on the twenty-first floor.