City

Sneakers slap cold pavement as cars rumble, spitting gasoline. Chatter slips from lips seeping sound into cell phones. Store doors snap shut as radios blare. Motorcycles click to ignition. Salvia soaked mouths furiously chomp mint gum. Sirens ring attracting everyone’s stare. Lone musicians pounds drums, their rough callused hands scraping the fine skin. Newly weds smooch smacking red lips. Girl’s hums quietly and touch hands in a game of Mary-Mack. Basketballs thump blacktop and bounce off a rusted blackboard. Old men bump elbows on parking meters. Squirrels get squashed by the thick tire of a Jeep as their bones crack, splicing inside. Fists punch steering wheels as horns beep. A paintbrush’s fine bristles coat color onto an old building. A plane roars. A dog barks. Cars slam. Over and over again it’s the sounds of life. So, just stop and listen…

I, myself, have been to the crystal city on the water.
I have stood on the glass balcony which reflected back below.
I have traveled endless miles into the sky which this place sits,
Where the shows are the thunderclouds far down where we row,
Above the clouds where storms cease to exist.

Country kids love the mud
And watching their cows chew their cud.
City kids don‘t grow their own greens,
But they are willing to spend plenty on jeans.
Country kids tans from working in the sun.
City kids tans after paying someone a ton.
Country kids aren’t afraid to get dirty working hard or bringing in hay,
City kids work at cash registers waiting all week for their pay.