Knowledge policeman in blue,
Watching what you wear and do.
Wardrobe your essence to Dr. New York,
Clothing the evidence used in his court.
No peridot! He dons blue shirt attire,
With beige or such slacks fetched from the armoire.
His eyes, a wintering East River, gaze.
Distilling intent out from hidden haze.
Pure heart beats still within armored chest.
Now all paiges he meets are put to test.
Woe to the tardy, locked minds that be,
Along with non-fans of the Scorsese.
Dr. New York teaches how to write,
To view, and to wage verbal fight.
A rumor persists that New York’s lair
Lies ‘neath old Dark Tower Nev-er-faire.
If you slack in his class, sometimes you will hear,
Anecdotes of an ilk to the Torquemada fear.
His subway precise, his hourglass pristine.
To pass thru his gate, be above the obscene.
Or He’ll Hell you like Ahab dreamed for M.D. whale,
And that last gasp of daylight will fade as you pale.
So, dress well ye your body, its soul and its mind.
Or be left with an F, then a smile not unkind.