S(h)ifting the city

 

 

friends come to visit
i hold up a looking glass to the city
somehow
i can not find the perfect angle
i’ve always thought it moody
invicta, stubborn and unwieldy
it does as it pleases
like the cats resting
on the window sills
of  its aging buildings
but then
there are moments
the city brushes up against you
weaves around your legs
a soft surprise
and these days
it spins and purrs
for tourists
all done up
though unfamiliar with
all the paint and gloss
(a memory: years ago, after i first arrived, in a cafe
watching an old lady putting on the brightest pink lipstick
…tracing and retracing the feint curve of her mouth – i was mesmerized)
i hold up a looking glass to the city
but i’m no longer sure of my reflections

 

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