city sights

we keep building highways between our homes, rearranging entrances and exits.

the noise of those honking machines are getting to my head.

I picture cars going through the motions of ant armies,

ants carrying on their back automatic people,

who ask “how are you?” and move on

the automatic people are blind

they can’t see:

men who sit on city corners and near walls, with misshapen and shivering hands.

children who dodge tires and bullets to reach the library up the hill.

I want to move in small increments, move space lightly, kindly

to create a detour in the journey of the automatic people

to carry  in my mouth a heart

that knows hellos.

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