I’ve been enjoying
wandering thrift stores,
finding clothes I never thought
I’d wear before.

Everyone rummages
through hand me downs,
worn jeans, washed-out shirts
and I rummage too,
the scent of cigarettes
lingering on my fingertips,
cheap cologne
leaving hickeys on my neck.

This city has seen me
turn into a better man,
or maybe just a man.
I hope I’ve been better.

Outside, I drive
through avenues of skyscrapers,
no left turns, only right.
I envy them,
their grandeur,
how they bask in the afternoon sun,
shiny and unbothered.

They’re cared for,
with workers dangling high,
cleaning windows
on the 9th, maybe 10th floor.
They’re proud,
unshaken.

If I were as much man
as they are skyscrapers,
maybe things would feel lighter,
easier on the shoulders.

But then again
they haven’t been loved.
Of course not.
They are no one.

And there’s where I have the advantage.