its got what you need

I always leave feeling somewhere between off and rotten.  I get dropped into that big apple and it’s as if my only option is to eat and drink my way out.  and out I come, three days later, curled up like a slimy worm.  a worm, I wish—for if I were a worm I’d be free from this achy skeleton which sits twisted in the bucket seat of this usairways cough box.  free from my swollen stomach liner that trembles from the days of binging and boozing I imposed on it. 

the perfect cocktails, the finely pressed suits, and the world’s rarest foods.  the horn of plenty.  a city I once called home now overwhelms me.  it stands shining like a brazen trophy shelf, touting gold ribbons in every event.  the city?  yea, its got what you need.