Quiet

Living in the city, constant noise assaults the senses;
Tuning out or tuning in remain our best defenses.
So unless you plug your ears with I-Pod or CD's,
Prepare to be accosted by the city's jamborees.
Sirens blare from ambulances, fire trucks and cops;
Trucks and buses chug on by and screech when making stops.
Cars and taxis honk their horns despite impending fines;
Toddlers tantrum and we're tortured by incessant whines.
Clothing stores blast music and it's not Bach or Corelli;
Meat is sizzling on the carts and inside every deli.
Subway cars careen into the stations with a rumble;
Even in the library the level's more than mumble.
Garbage trucks and car alarms can rouse you from your bed;
Often they are loud enough to even wake the dead.
Yet some pockets do exist for quiet contemplation;
Finding them is certainly a cause for celebration.
If you cannot find a park or refuge, I've no doubt,
That you can be New Yorkerish and baby, tune it out!