7 Hills (Drive): A Poem

Summer nights crave
masters of metaphors
beduion cliches
playing cards by starlight
dirty cups of coffee make bad days
feel a bit alright
always
brutal in the daylight
(drive)
chorus of horns make for quicker paces
through the crowds I catch familiar faces
God knows this city’s too small to hide in
rolled down windows revealing
all our hang out spaces
you know: those common places
that tend to call on memories
that time erases
always

With unlit corridors
crooked street signs and late night cafes
social blanket wraps around
beggar child, beggar daughter
ripped up weaves and filthy thieves
soliciting graffiti murals
on colossal walls designed to keep them out
so into darkness they escape
to read the poetry in her eyes
smell the iris on her lips
always
(drive)
and I listen
to the silence that catches me
red handed
always
upon tracing the rim
of the hour glass
always
because I love this city
still
and though the careless
could care less
it reminds me
that someone is looking out
for everyone
anyone
always
still

( drive )