I wandered back to this city a prodigal son,
penniless, without friend or creed.

The city chokes on fumes and waste.
Dark rivers swallow reflections.

I have contemplated the mystery of street lights,
worked charms under full moons—
but the city will not yield to my insinuations.
Its breadth remains impenetrable.

A hard-faced mother:
she has not shown me the love
of which she is capable.

One day I must leave, never to return.