This city
It’s much too big for me—
Or maybe too small.

The city is much       too
small
for all these people.

There’s nowhere to put
us
so we go up.


We go up into buildings,
looking down on the moving.
We’re told we are safer
in buildings.

But buildings fall down.

This city.
It is easier with you
in it.

Not fighting a battle
to get into the subway,
but taking your hand and
deciding to walk.

So we walk.

We walk with our fingers
laced together like braids.
Nicely tied braids in the hair of a child.

This city.
It stares at us
confused,
wondering why we are smiling.

This is a place of motion
Move or be moved.
If you’ve taken a moment
to take in the view,
you are in the way.
You have taken time.

If you’ve taken a moment
to take a breath of fresh air,
well, honey, you’ve taken a leap
to the wrong city.

This city.
It never sleeps
(supposedly the appeal).

Go to sleep, you big city.
Your sirens,
your yelling,
your flashing bright lights—
they’re beautiful.
Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.
I’m sure someone will let you know
what you’ve missed.