8th Avenue

I had a weird experience on my bike today. I wrote a poem about it but it's unfinished

8th Avenue

Along 8th avenue
from high above the familiar skyline
of glass towers thrusting like crystals
and dragging along the painted blue ceiling
I make my descent

The city quickly passes behind the trees
out of my view
and I find myself in a foreign place
Somewhere hot and bright and clean
Where knotted electrical cables
cast criss crossing shadows
on construction scarred streets

Sucking in thin air
I feel like ive never been here
but I know it from photographs that I've seen

At night I come back
pedaling up the 8th avenue hill
And in the mild dark air
I never turn to look behind
but up
to see the stars flowing like syrup
behind the trees