City

City of dreams
city of profligacy.
Tall buildings loom over me like
hungry vultures over a corpse
Salty waters surge at my feet,
trying to sway me, shake me, and lose my grip.

There is no poetry here.

Words that creep out of road-side flowers
and man-made fountains
shrivel up like raisins under the sun.
Rhyme that drifts in ethereal melodies
falls flat to the ground like
birds shot dead.
People walk about like
weary robots in spurious contentment.
Sweat and grease traded with
air-conditioned nights.

There is no poetry here.

The days stretch on like
an ocean of waste,
too vain to be salvaged.

City of dreams,
City of make-believe,
I wish I could leave.