I’ve always been fascinated with cities. To me, they’re as magical in their manic noise and movement as the country is in its quiet and emptiness.
weeknight in the city
dirty town with wave after wave
of windows, cascading over each other,
walls of concrete & stone
stained with evening sweat -
hungry doorways wait for visitors,
ready to devour & deliver them within,
a steady throb of traffic
flowing like blood: red & white
tail light blood cells
in two neat rows - a pulse
never ceasing, palpitations
of sirens and shouts.
drawing curtains, keeping ourselves
to ourselves: millions of hermits
sectioned off in our own compounds,
waiting for daylight.