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The City


The City

I find a certain melancholy

in pavement, in its gray

simplicity, love, too,

the monotony

of streetlights, the break


and gas of machine

There is chaos in graffiti,

its rainbow language

that coils over walls,

second cousin to

the nausea of billboards,


the sadness of this city,

the labyrinth of crowds

twisting fervently as

mice. The filtering down

of silt from rain through

hair, under trench coats,

rolling down spines

into shoes.

– Francesca Bianco