Our F*****g City deserves a celebration:
A proper improper Time, for this Occasion.
Our F*****g City didn’t pay top dollar
To any weak-in-the-clutch theology scholar,
This year, to shrug off losses as “what God wrote.”
No, this was a year to take Fate by the throat.
It’s in the situation, like joy or grief.
Sometimes you need a starter. Sometimes, relief. . . .
A slugger, a table-setter, a closer, a stopper.
The words “Our F*****g City” are right and proper:
Plural, communal, impulsive, a little mad—
Like dirty water, rude streets, the good of bad.
Profane, provincial, prepared to take a knock
Or get one, ethnic, antic— we were a lock,
Or lucky. In us, or in the situation:
Our F*****g City deserves a celebration.
Robert Pinsky was the ninth poet laureate of the United States and is now a professor at Boston University.