The city is a threshold,
A gray steel door to hide behind,
A slab of stretching concrete
That anchors your feet to
the well-lit madness of anonymity,
the many intersecting cycles of life,
a quick-moving mesh net
that catches but cannot save.
Once you enter there is no exit,
Except the winding highway
Beyond the intersection
Whose blinking lights play
Tricks on your mind until
You forget what things it was
That made you want to leave.
And the buildings, so tall and bold,
Some singed in smoke or
Colorful proclamations of the street kids,
Lost souls of the old and youth,
How they wander that maze of mortar,
All sidewalk chalk and spray paint,
Dinner tables real enough to eat from,
Until you touch the flat empty of their torsos
And walk away, belly rumbling
Beyond the fresh edge of cityscapes
And lighted windows real enoughTo gaze into, though you see nothing.
Written for MindLoveMisery.