You’re In The City

I walked along the city’s wrist

Crossed a vein

Nearly run over by a honking blood cell

I wonder what we did,

To wind up in this diabetic hell.


Her bony fingers scrape the sky

Clawing at heaven

But it’s all to no avail

I wonder what she did;

To become so grey and pale.


She doesn’t drive under a hundred miles per hour

She counts seconds like they’re pennies

And when it rains it pisses;

I wonder why and if

She ever wants to become that countryside she so desperately misses.


She’s a smoker

She’s a drinker

There’s no doubt about that;

Why, last week I saw her drunk down the high street

Letting men walk all over her, wearing a traffic cone for a hat.


Scantily clad in her miasma

Scathingly smiling as alluring as can be

She bleeds out into the country

Subtly reminds you- you’re in the city.


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