you spoke so highly of the
unique
charm
of your city. i went out tonight
to find it.

i didn’t find it.

your city is
the same
as all the others.

streetlamps,
licking
their yellow tongues
into every infected puddle
and street gutter
- the same.

the stench of homelessness,
pouncing
from blankets
huddled together in
bank doorways
- the same.

bus stop prostitutes,
scavenging
for a warm
place to
sleep
- the same.

vacuous chatter,
swarming
through the cracks of
another
bar
- the same.

hometown heroes,
snorting and grunting
over possession of a woman
in their own trojan war
alley brawl
- the same.

intoxicated lovers,
wooing each oth
er with there wooz
y may
ting dnace
- the same.

two a.m. loneliness,
limping
back
to
my
hotel
alone
- the same.

your city is
the same
as all the others.