Urban Elsewhere

Poem

image by Lucien Manshanden on Flickr.com

---

Who knows this city
Like a delivery boy
Racing through the streets
On my bike.
This city has no surprises for me.

Cutting off taxis,
Coasting past buses,
Zipping through jaywalkers,
Building number in hand.
This city has no surprises for me.

Sandwiched between two buildings—
Like an entrance to a cave—
An iron gate with the address.
Must be a service entrance.
This city has no surprises for me.

Chain up the bike.
Punch in the intercom.
That familiar buzz.
Gate is unlocked.
This city has no surprises for me.

Passing the jaws of familiarity,
Surrounded by towering brick buildings—
A secret hamlet 
Nestled in an urban canyon.

A quaint brick pathway
Flows through its center.
Cottage-sized homes graced by color,
With gardens hugging both ends of its shore.

There’s no doorbell.
I knock on a wooden door,
Delivering what feels like an offering
To another realm.

Then departing
From a metropolitan village of Fae,
Returning to Gotham’s familiar streets—
The city has some more surprises for me.

---

---

The Voices that Remain

---