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.