Hey, you!
Respect the metropolis
with all of its swagger,
Hey, you!
Respect the metropolis
with all of its swagger,
those who circumvent
swinging glass doors,
who enter
with seraphic magic,
who float the economy.
A swerve, an offshoot
in a dawdling
line makes shoppers
euphoric. Somebody
forgot something back there,
in their mother’s
womb. Maybe it was
a frosty blouse
after the arctic
archipelago,
or maybe a child
lost in Tokyo or Paris,
London or Milan.
Whispers rustle
like tissue paper,
centripetal energy
in a drawstring paper bag.
A fingerprint
left on a mirror points
to say, this is it.
