Heyhowyadoin: A 'New York School' Poem

Today’s challenge was to write a New York School. poem  the idea of which is to incorporate as many as possible of the "New York School" (of poets)'s 23 rules.. Here is the list: (I did not  particularly like it, or, rather, it did not 'grab' me at first, but I gave it a shot.  I think I accomplished every 'rule," and did a fairly decent job of it, at that!  And there, it's done. So, here are the New York School 'rules,' ff by my poem.

1. at least one addressee (to which you may or may not wish to dedicate your poem)
2. use of specific place names and dates (time, day, month, year)–especially the names of places in and around New York City
3. prolific use of proper names
4. at least one reminiscence, aside, digression, or anecdote
5. one or more quotations, especially from things people have said in conversation or through the media
6. a moment where you call into question at least one thing you have said or proposed throughout your poem so far
7. something that sounds amazing even if it doesn’t make any sense to you
8. pop cultural references
9. consumer goods/services
10. mention of natural phenomena (in which natural phenomena do not appear ‘natural’)
11. slang/colloquialism/vernacular/the word “fuck”
12. at least one celebrity
13. at least one question directed at the addressee/imagined reader
14. reference to sex or use of sexual innuendo
15. the words “life” and “death”
16. at least one exclamation/declaration of love
17. references to fine art, theater, music, or film
18. mention of genitals and body parts
19. food items
20. drug references (legal or illegal)
21. gossip
22. mention of sleep or dreaming
23. use of ironic overtone                      _______________                                                                                                                                                                                              Heyhowyadoin, ala New York School
1. Heyhowyadoin BFF, let's change this thing up.  We've
2. lived long enough at 123 West Thirteenth Street, 
3. which, even though it is conveniently located 
4. between the Sixth and Seventh Avenue subways,
5. bears no comparison to the Prague Hotel where we saw
6. Vanessa Redgrave, like, you know, this movie star, 
7. at the registration desk, like the bellhop glared
8. at us staring at her but we were at the short end 
9. of life then, too self conscious about showing
10. any body parts, arms or legs, never torso,
11. much less breasts or genitals, but not interest.
12. (I mean, how much can a bikini cover, are you
13. down with that?)  The war broke out before 
14. we passed that way again, we cowered
15. in a Berlin airport hallway the second time through,
16. spent the whole dark of the moon night
17. longing for a sedative, damn!, to sleep, to dream away
18. the sounds and possibilities of the existence
19. of war.  Fortunately we'd saved snack crackers
20. from the flight and a kiosk operator shared
21. fruit at a reduced price, but did you know
22. Irene peed her pants that night
23. (should've worn a Kotex)  before we were allowed
24. to get up, stretch, go to the toilet...you'd think
25. we'd've been safer in there, in the first place.
26. "Let's tell each other stories," you said,
27.  as though the word would save the world..
28. Well, I didn't mean to be sacrilegious, but anyway
29. I don't think that's the kind of story 
30. you were talking about.  OH it was a long, hard 
31. night; reminding me of being scared to death
32. during a bad storm one night when 
33. I was a child just old enough to be trusted
34. to stay home alone overnight.  I never used 
35. the "I"m old enough, aren't I?" 
36. argument with Mother again.                         by Shirley Smith Franklin