Higher
Expectation
My plans tonight,
a walk about town.
What could be more serene?
'Tis the middle of June,
the air conveys that story.
The air is viscous and sticky,
like swimming in a potter's
slip.
I can already imagine the sounds
of downtown.
The insect buzzing
of neon dragon flies coloring
their respective businesses.
Cabbies and other upset
motorists
yelling slurs and angry
vulgarities
out of roadrage.
All the while,
overly persistent street rats
catcall at women passing by.
The atmosphere probably
holds the everlasting smells
of car exhaust and the smog
which smothers this city
like a fire blanket.
The same fumes gave
the air a metallic
taste resembling
burnt garbage.
I could just imagine the haze
obscuring my vision
like a swim in a murky river.
I never did like New York.
I think I will stay inside
tonight.
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