City of large
things. Each layer of history
thickening with the blood
in your streets that flows easy
but nothing sticks for long.
Time moves, quickening
heartbeats, train schedules
City of loudness,
a cacophony of car honk, gull cry
wind whoop, wave crash and
voices raised in selling, haggling
because what else is there, really?
life churns, spits, throws you out
and you, unsuspecting stranger
try to hang on, your knuckles white
City of rough
and biting realities
jostling for space with
the cool, the fast,
the heady shot
at 3 in the morning
that never makes anything go away.
But sinks with you into the deepest part
of your dreams, and his, and her's
till all thoughts shriek
In your depths, my city,
the cool blue shout that smashed the window pane
and disappeared over the horizon, somewhere
may still be found.
And I may begin. Again.
© anindita sengupta