City order

The swaying of the trees assaults my senses.

The green foliage, the jarring wisps of wind, the unwelcome company of endearing critters.

I miss my bowlegged friends. Their friendly warnings. Their threats for change.

I miss the roads, the acrid fumes, the resplendent tumbling of faded wrappers.

Last night I dreamt I was walking up north again. Rested my bones amongst the glass shards and needles. The soothing shrieks washed over me.

Out here the fresh air poisons my lungs. Sitting on this leafy branch has me feeling like a bird trapped in a cage. No graffiti tags amongst these lurid flowers.

I miss the lively coughs, the roaming speakers, the gentle screeching of tattered engine belts.

No more weeping lesions, no more tears of joy.