The city streets are bustling with people
a five p.m. sidewalk rush hour
the buildings are gray and black and imposing
sucking the life force out of us
while blocking the sunlight
from reaching the top of my head
and I am wishing for open green fields
as a deep breath drawn fills me
with exhaust fumes mixing with deep dish delights
The rainforests in Chiapas
are still pristine, clear and clean
‘cept the government can’t seem
to preserve them so..
contractors get contracts
and houses are built
of that 200 year old tree
The gray faces on the subway
match the 7p.m. hue of Chicago’s concrete alleys
and I live here.
At the heart of it all
I am disillusionment’s princess
I sit in my big gray castle
going over invoices of laughter
and grumble at just another bill to pay.