City Much Traveled

A poem describing my happiest times

Never have I loved myself
as much as I do when I am in the heart
of the sun streaked sound squeeked
window washed and dust and dirty city,
all alone yet not alone at all.
The men and the women who walk
high heeled steel toed
one foot in front of the other
across the streets of that city
are the dare-devils of the world.
They stop to talk and flirt and gossip with
every last ant-sized inhabitant
of that looming elephant sky scraper city,
and I wish I
too
could let go of myself at home.

No,
I must wait for my time in that
rumble grumble
find yourself another love
crazy playground city,
all alone but not alone at all.
That is my true love.
Sidewalks worn down by fancy shoes city
going from point A to point B city
but don't forget to stop an smell the flower city.
I love that city well traveled
where I am never truly alone.