Fresh Off The Boat Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

What must it be like, caught in the headlights?
At New York's John F. Kennedy Airport,
Especially - especially when you are alone?
It's not as though you'll be able to prize-fight.
Fistfight your way to the top. 'Hold the phone.'
The only 'Big Apple' here is in your throat.

Now that you're feeling fresh off the boat
Doubts are coming thick and fast.
As nauseating as 13,000 bright yellow cabs,
Oh, my lord, it is vast; how long will I last?
Crablike - scuttling with cases in either claw.

It looks like I'm back to my ingenuous self-wishing.
Father, were you here to pick me up in your big bear paws?
Turn me around, and pack me off back home.
'Hold the phone' - I'm a grownup now, aren't I?
Bring it on, 'Big Apple'. Aren't you just a tad overblown?

Especially now, I'm an amateur prize-fighter once again
Without any shame
Oh, what must it be like being caught in the headlights?
At New York's J. F. K.
Feeling reverential and, for a moment, on bourbon, okay
And as tall as the Empire State Building, with a lot to say.
Father, dear, go away; you're not needed here today.