Hello, readers, this is probably, almost certainly, the last time my poor, silly, poems will be published. I am planning to retire from work in the next year or so and there are other things I want to do. Actually, I am planning to do nothing. Just rest; I'm very tired. As usual, these poems are not autobiographical, but are a compilation of experiences I have heard about a second or third hand from people who have lived in New York City. As such, they are a work of fiction after having been reshaped in my imagination. I wish you all good luck and much happiness.
