by John A. Birt
What can two dollars and seventy-five cents
get you in New York City? I’d say:
Two measly dollars and three quarters
can’t really offer you much.
Perhaps if you’re thinking about food,
two dollars could get you a butter roll.
Two quarters extra to have it toasted,
the last quarter for a pack of gum.
On top of that, a short conversation
with the man behind the counter
of the bodega you’ve been frequenting
from childhood to present day.
Two dollars and seventy-five cents
to travel from home to school.
Two dollars and seventy-five cents
to travel from school to home.
This time the fare is free.
Your friends encourage you to hop
the turnstile and evade the fare
and use the money elsewhere.
Enjoy a ninety-nine-cent pizza
with a soda on the side at Bryant
Park until it’s six o’clock at night.
That sounds good, but where else?
Possibly at the Burger King on 46th
where you could buy something from
the value menu. A possibility forfeited
by the restaurant’s unforeseen closing.
Two dollars and seventy-five cents
no longer needed thanks to an orange
and white colored student MetroCard.
The orange later replaced by lime green.
That free-ride student MetroCard
proved to be more useful than expected:
You can use it for a bus ride to the mall.
Mom can use it when class isn’t in session
and save on the five-dollar round-trip
to get groceries from the Traders Joe’s
near Court Square because the market
up the hill is unreasonably expensive.
The Roosevelt Island Tram is an option
to get the second-best view of Manhattan.
Better be on your way home before eight
o’clock sharp or else you’ll have to pay
Two dollars and seventy-five cents
that are now rendered useless
following the fare’s change in price:
two dollars and ninety cents.
That can take you on a trip to the beach
to watch waves of people intertwine
bearing the summer’s ninety-degree heat
about a hundred feet underground.
Eleven quarters, a dime, and a nickel
leaves you both bothered and worried
as delinquent teens attempt to surf
on the train cars instead of the sea.
Only to be rewarded with a segment
on channel seven, plastering faces
of the train surfing participants and
warning about the dangers of this trend.
Two dollars and ninety cents
to board either the 7, N, or W train
at Queens Plaza’s elevated station
provided with the best view of Manhattan.
A feat that comes with the perk
of maintaining your cellular service
and the downside of witnessing
a live performance at nine a.m.
Two dollars and ninety cents
that felt she wasn’t enough
until she realized her worth
and felt she had a higher value.
Two dollars and ninety cents
that influenced a surge in fare invasion,
contrasting her previous form
that at least came with fair persuasion.
Even then, New Yorkers would riot
at her inconvenient and ambitious prices.
Forever questioning her value of just
two dollars and seventy-five cents.
John A. Birt (he/him) is a student at LaGuardia Community College majoring in Liberal Arts: Journalism. He has a passion for creative writing, digital design, and storytelling.
