RICHARD DIEBENKORN, GIRL LOOKING AT LANDSCAPE, 1975. COURTESY OF THE WHITNEY MUSEUM.
Dear New York City,
My name is L. I'm 44 years old.
I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm too ordinary for you.
I'm faded blue jeans. I'm an old yellow t-shirt with holes. I'm a $3.99 dozen of flowers at the farmer's market. I'm monosyllabic. I prefer the Guggenheim without any walls. Routine is my mint tea.
You are too beautiful for me. You are an expensive red lipstick. You are black high heels. Polysyllabic. Intelligent. Tolerant. You speak beautiful poems at 2:00 a.m.
New York, you are my Tonio Kroger.
I will not die to everyday life for you.
p.s. We will always have the Chelsea District