Tall Buildings

Photo by Ricardo Esquivel on Pexels.com

Tall Buildings

I spent so much time trying to become part of the city,
Tall buildings, bad affairs, the rush of light waves,
And hurried taxis, the wrong arguments,
The right song on my headphones, the sex
Of male rage, cigarette burns, and feminist bartenders,
When you're young you can  write beautiful winter poems.
You awake in beds of hurried dreams,
And sleep like mountain air rising from a cooling stream.
You own words like
You will belong to me
And lose belongings
Like airport baggage.
You visit the logic of earth and time
Like a suitor. A magnifying glass.
In a child's hand, you are thrilled the first time
You realize you can burn something
If you're able to focus long enough.
You draw like you are seeing for the first time,
A nude, and write like you are a new soul,
Still not understanding. When you hold something,
You try not to show your spasms of excitement.
You believe the world
When it tells you it sees you a sinless child.
There comes that moment when you feel
Your infidelities. You swallow hard,
Cry alone, and hope nobody notices the dark circles beneath your eyes.
There comes a time when
The city and your body merge
Into one being. You no longer feel like a postcard of the skyline
And start to see yourself as one street
In a vast place, with so many lives,
Living in all these houses,
Steeped in a thousand secrets
That run deep into your cobblestones.

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