Get off at the Port Authority bus terminal, make sure you know where and come back for re-entry scuffed weary and sleepy-eyed as you are.
Your laces need tying stop at a streetcorner your faded skateshoes.
Look in Manhattan shopwindows.
Traversing the five outer boroughs it were only like walking five blocks, wit mom beside me in summer T-shirt pointing out the sights.
Did ye know from Long Island to Manhattan there are blocks of old yellowed brownstone where stand on corners the ghosts of moustachio'd pizzeria owners. Frowning, like pioneers in sepia photographs.
We leave them behind. Then we come out onto the magnificent iron bridge mom n me, grim suspension bridge not golden but grey-gated and splendid with wires... Two-lane traffic, blazin station-wagons.
-Cin you walk over the bridge? Open to pedestrian?
-Sure ye can.
There seems no trouble. We walk easily across the lengthy massy bridge with the sun past its zenith in the sky. Manhattan awaits on the other side.
The five outer boroughs can be traversed fairly easily. On the bulwark or concrete stanchion of the bridge to the left stands the familiar statue, tablet cradled in arm, hand holding torch upraised, though she looks curiously ancient, rusted, hollow-eyed, frayed as a monument. The expression on her face looks almost painful.
'Member Brian sent me that postcard from N.Y. saying, in typical deadpan, "I saw the Statue of Liberty and it's tiny"?
Well look it's just like Brian said, it is indeed tiny. Pointing at the decrepit and dusty statue.
Somewhat of a disappointment almost like something you would see in Europe.
But no matter since we are traversing the perimeters of this great and infamous city.
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