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The City Is

I open my french doors to the sunlight and soot of another day.

Birds are chirping—it's so cliche.

I am rolling off the mattress to walk my dogs

While I brainstorm a tiny breakfast my stomach can handle

And if I have enough time for a pour over.

The ambience of the town sweetens the boring morning.

Sugary car beeps and blinking sirens help me create stories.

Who could they be searching for so early in the day?

Mom asks if I live in a good area when we catch up over the phone

While I clip my hair back and put on a dress for work.

Next up, I will spend an hour on the 110 basking in the light,

So close to the other drivers that I might as well

Kiss them and take them out for dinner.

Maybe I am already in love.

The city is

A perfectly timed cigarette break.

A lemon tree outside the courthouse.

A neighbor accidentally seeing me dress from the window.

The city is

Rays of UV making it past tall, obstructive buildings.

Buying a vagabond twenty dollars worth of 7/11 snacks.

Every strange yappy dog yapping exactly like my yappy dog.

Daydreaming about fucking snooty baristas,

Wearing the newest pair of shoes I foolishly bought,

Having an orange and banana for lunch,

Smoking with every doorman I meet.

The city is

You and me ignoring each other until that time of day,

Us meeting for a beverage of some sort,

And being too busy to do anything else about it,

And doing it all again tomorrow.

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