(no subject)

[fahye]

written on the 423 down Castlereagh

the city is a glittering, aching, clawing thing
with bats strung between buildings in the blue dusk
not fighting crime but reporting it:
from glass to glass their sonar shout
a ricochet of breaking waves
sketching the airways of the beast

and every voice you hear is the city's voice
she speaks in tongues
tongues of devil men and downtreading
and uplooking and sidewalking

nightly buildings tesselate the sky

you walk faster in the city
nicer dress, painted lips, higher heels
faster faster faster click click
the city speaks in soles and cement

and every person that you pass
is living in a different city

Comments

[apiphile.livejournal.com]

I think I probably would. I need to get over my Thing about airports so I can visit.