The city roars far below with a savage metal rhythm,

And on the sidewalk it’s casual cannibalism

As men devour and bury each other to survive.

But here, home, vines twine in cages and pots

And dream maybe, in a vegetable way,

Of places beyond my metal cage home,

To where the fog isn’t smog,

And the animal cruelty and claws

Are without the human bite.