Crossing Washington Square going south, after the fountain, the faint smell of cholorine from it, and the people sitting in the fountain’s lip and getting gently sprayed by it, the young 20-somethings fiddling with an expensive-looking NYU movie camera on a tripod, the rasta guy in the sun in sunglasses, and his hair gathered in a hot-looking, in-this-80s-fahrenheit-weather, woolly dread-gatherer hat, after I’ve passed the vaguely Latin man in cargo shorts and sunglasses, weirdly doing a strange hip dance to himself with his shirt off, exposing an impressive, and suntanned beer belly, coming close to my goal, NYU’s Bobst library where I am writing this post, A man in a white shirt and white linen trousers, crosses eastbound traffic on a bike. With his salt-and-pepper hair and Rioja-induced florid complexion, he looks vaguely like the famous Irish-born hispanist Ian Gibson. But that isn’t what attracts attention. It’s the white parrot sitting on the handlebar, quite calmly, as he turns into Washington Square. The parrot, its slightly-yellow crest stirring in the breeze, shifts its dangerous clawed feet a little bit on the rubber handle. Otherwise, it’s as calm as if it were riding on a piratical shoulder.
New York Peristalsis
My name is David McLoghlin, I am the author of "Waiting for Saint Brendan and Other Poems" (Salmon Poetry, July 2012); I am an Irish poet, writer and literary translator, who currently lives in New York, and blogs about its vicissitudes, while not writing other things, like my 2nd collection. I moved to NYC in 2010 to study at NYU's MFA Program in Creative Writing, from which I graduated in 2012, two months before my book was published. Before moving to the US, I lived in Ireland, Spain, Belgium, France, the USA, and travelled in a variety of countries (including Morocco, Czechoslovakia (when it was that country), Paraguay, Uruguay, Argentina and Norway), whilst engaged in a number of pursuits. Newyorkperistalsis.wordpress.com came about as a catch-all for impressions related to moving to NYC alone: culture shock, in essence, and all her ugly sisters. View all posts by New York Peristalsis