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.