Puttin' on the Ritz

Anthony takes the AirTrain from the Hotel to Howard Beach Station where he transfers to the A Train, then the L Train, then the 123 Uptown to Broadway. From the station it is still a long walk on hard concrete through thick crowds of grim humans to reach ‘Harry’s Shoes’.

     Have you seen the well-to-do
     Up on Lennox Avenue
     On that famous thoroughfare
     With their noses in the air?

There are too many people, too many buildings, too many miles of canyon-like road to negotiate.

Anthony mutters to himself, ‘My awa is Oruarangi, my maunga is Pukeiti …’

He weaves his way through the crowds.

     That’s where each and every Lulu Belle goes
     Every Thursday evening with her swell beaus
     Rubbin’ elbows …

It is almost impossible not to rub elbows.

At ‘West Side Stationers’ – 2620 Broadway (corner of West 99th Street) – Anthony buys a note book and pen, green with little stags’ heads on it.

He sits in ‘Starbucks’:

‘Everything is water. I slip and slide and get stuck in sodden earth. It is a grove. The silence is defined by the constant, irregular drip of water from high branches and the gurgle of the tide on the rocks. There are the footprints of ducks in the mud and, as the light fades, frogs chorus. On the fence – the decomposing body of a pukeko.’


Barnaby McBryde