Walking, eighty-six storeys above the crazy streets

Behind suicide-proof fencing

The City shimmers like a circuit-board

I gaze across dense array of resplendent skyscrapers

Monolithic marvels erected to forever overwhelm

Central Park’s a quilt of colours spread on concrete bed

The final remnant of what this island once was

For steel and glass has been breeding

Raising children too numerous to count

Camera zigzags through bobbing tourist crush

Swing lens toward statue holding flame above the water

One tide churns at her feet, while tide of crime swells behind

Sounds of sirens a constant ringing in her ears

Her face reflects a stoic contentment

Once witness to boatloads of steerage

Now planes bring her the huddled masses

Birds, like Aboriginals, robbed of their space

Cry as they circle her head

"Son of Sam" may have gazed from this very perch

And listened to the dogs bark-talking down below

Wondered how King Kong

Had managed not to damage Faye

As he ascended to these heights before his final fling

Watched planes circling his head

Proudly certain he was not really a monster

A savage beast let loose on a Naked City

Unable to acknowledge the malignancy about him

As he tumbled towards death

c)  C. Butler  1995