Not sure hwo this came out but at least it's not banging on my head anymore

A revolutionary lady, skirts
Blood-hemmed and billowing with sparkling mist
Emerges from the river. She is curt,
Unfriendly, tangled, ready to assist,
At least when she is asked politely for
Her time. Her trading wealth she spent to gain
Her emerald necklace and her rebuilt shore,
The musty workings of her clatt’ring trains
Where street musicians ply their hidden tunes,
Her clapboard churches, brick-built schools,
The sounds of baseball games in steamy Junes,
Her compass-point (a neon sign for fuel).
This open, clannish nature, touchy pride:
The tos and fros of boats upon the tides.