When the old Penn Station was torn down
Its demons, leaving their unhurried lives,
Spilled into the City. Some colonized the Municipal Building
Where the dolphin-crowned statue of Civic Fame
Offered them a cautious welcome. They mingled
With the aboriginal civil servants, becoming
In time, one breed. Because my grandfather
Was born in the building’s shadow and my parents
Were married in the building by the County Clerk
I enjoy certain hereditary rights
Including the ability to tell at a glance who
In the Department of Buildings has the power
To condemn my soul to spend half-eternity
In a Beaux-Arts Hell designed by McKim, Mead & White
And who can merely choose to capriciously deny
My application to tear down half of Central Park
In order to resurrect the Village of Pigtown.
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