Why Cities Can’t Love Me like Nature Loves Itself
today I see worlds in vent slits,
caramel tongue of Cincinnati
pollution. you are not my basement smoke
i know you are not my lime pucker
of chiseled trial love.
you are not
my tilted cup of highway hoodie
spilling golden wisps love.
i know you
are not my silver stadium jersey haze love.
love you are not straight line thrown
boomerang back into finger hinge.
love you are not black patience of
screen void in my pocket.
you teeter on my feet like heavy air conditioning. love
you cold my warm, my history of heat.
you know you are not known
until i reach out
and am not startled.