Goodbye to New York
You were mine but now youíre not.
Secretly, though, you still are Ė arenít you?
I know I left you, New York, but letís face it,
the break-up was mutual.
ďDonít let the door hit ya on the way out,Ē
you yelled, as I drove away in the U-Haul,
the cockroaches waving me off.
If you have any comments on this poem, Jessy Randall
would be pleased to hear from you.