While solar rays get mummified
from being shot and brought on slides,
the city – field of frozen corns
with ears too blunt for traffic horns.
Emotions tense – no pops, nor flakes,
since senses – numb and hearts – pinched aches.
Life moments – mating with each other,
but no one cares who's real father,
because realities are born
each time the eye’s unfreezing corns,
whenever harvests flood the streets
and steps keep feeding strolling feet.
A touch – vibrations from beneath,
a subway-train is grinding teeth
and rats are looking for quietude,
since “night” means “feast”, a magic flute
to lead their noses straight to trash
till garbage trucks will swallow mash
and end the passage for the gorge.
The face of City hard to forge,
to alter patterns of events
and squeeze from Dollar couple cents.
So I am breathing through its smog,
so easy here to get bogged,
so tough to find the shades of green
on glassy, paved and urban scene.
So many faces passing by,
so many questions "Who am I?"
September 3, 2008
Iouri Lazirko
Copyright ©2008 Iouri Lazirko