Within the borders of the city

front, back and spine,

I walks.
Wandering along

streets lined with Century Schoolbook,

flanked by commuters in black tie.
At the office, a newborn

celebutante

wails and cries repeatedly,

testing modern lungs.
I immediately thinks of death,

of flosculation and of pigritude.

What careless God looks over us?
Outside, I sees

a tourist; savoir-faire,

effortlessly navigating the unquestioning crowds

of yesterday and tomorrow

with a purposeful incline.
After work I sings

quote-unquote karaoke

filled with audible

mirth and wrath and sadness.
Confused and inconsolable

in the darkness,

I visits the marbled rivers of the countryside

and weeps into their waters,

certain that life is bound

not to change.