Taking the elevator down from my therapist’s office on the 10th floor, the typical lift that is always crowded because it is designed to save space, and crammed with people, to boot, a man shades the top three buttons with his finger, one of which is the image of a fire man helmet beside a key hole for burning. The motion of his finger is rather like the way some smartphones’ unlocking is that same zig-zag, barely-touch, design-a-ziggurat motion, as if one were shadowing instead of touching. Then, he starts his main ritual, which is to touch each floor’s number on the way down. He doesn’t seem to see me watching. Or, if he does, he can’t stop himself. I would love to interject, stick my finger into the mix. Of course, I don’t do it. Instead, I think: I should have taken the stairs.
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 David McBloglin