The City

A cantankerous cacophony of cars honk; however,
sometimes a symphony of horns
harmonize their drones.
Below the concert hall—
for all the world’s a concert hall—
the veins of the city pump blood back and forth.

Style outpaces infrastructure amidst the concrete
creating an aesthetic all its own,
like a beggar in silver.
We live in the world
just above the economic waterline
where Atlas is a deli or laundromat or pharmacy.

The poor here would be comfortable if they were
anywhere else, but this megalopolis
drags you down low.
And yet comfort is,
as in any place truly called home,
to be found amongst those with whom it is shared.