PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Goodbye to city-certain —
The business class broken backs
That smell of gin and steel.
Goodbye to car horns whining
In the morning man-hole mist,
To stars hung dull from iron poles
Rusting in the orange night.
I will not miss brickwork shadows
And scaling the skies though we can’t see a thing
When it rains.
Patchwork parks where the hills aren’t paved
Wither in winter, weeping green,
And the rattling metal chorus—
Gravel-voiced engines and clattering steel—
Became just trucks complaining
As they scattered puddles and paper
Down the street.
I already know
When I wave the taxi down
It will be the last time I notice
That odor of leather
And cigarettes
Before the skyline is just a postcard
In my suitcase.