the city moves at dawn
the city moves at dawn
while i turn in my sleep
� � � � churning the shrill mumble
of its fires and ostentatious billboards bounce
like any forgotten treasure off the unforgiving
� � � � � � � � � � � �         � � � � � � � � and overwhelming blacktop.
i don't think that i could find an inch of green here
if it weren't for your
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �   eyes
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �    but even they are clouded with your feline rage
                                                                                           your self-righteousness

� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �          �
and my own burning jealousy.

but even so, i wish you'd have some compassion
for once in your life follow me and let the city breathe you in

if you look just right the steel shrines find their place between your eyes; � � � � � � � � � � � � � �
the kamikaze traffic, � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �     � �up
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �      �and �
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �      �up
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �      � � ��and
the glinting glass towers that go up
to realize their place under the sun.


the city moves at dawn
affected just a little bit less than a flippant kid, only seventeen
and more of a hick than she could ever admit.

as her bare feet and soul wander, weaving in and out of parking garages
                                                                                        and churches
-all touting the same things inside various palaces
  (looming monstrocities of mirrored glass and asphalt).

wandering, following the lines like hope as they crackle the concrete;
like i could find an inch or two of green
like hope once lingered there �

� � between roach motels and trolley cars �
� � in the dark spots between the sidewalk slabs
� � between me
� � � � � � � � � � �and �
� � � � � � � � � � �you.
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