[Poem] Spirit of the City

Spirit of the City.png

It’s like a tall person in a dirty suit.
It’s hat askew bit not jaunty. It leans preposterously in a doorframe just off the street.
It smells of stale beer, urine, cigarettes, weed, and rain. It has an imposing stare but it does not feel threatening, just uninvolved.
It’s pockets are full of transit transfers, loose change, gloves missing pairs, and half filled moleskins
It’s watching the people come and go, one long-fingered hand cradling it’s jaw, one holding a stack of Street Roots.
Did you notice it there, in the corner of your vision as you passed the space between two buildings?
No?
It noticed you, it’s eyes moving as you passed, impassable face unmoving.
It always notices from rooftops tracing the routes of birds.
The paths of skateboarders.
Watching the street sleepers and rush hour commuters.
Watching, uninvolved, aware, awake, silent.

(Originally posted over on twitter as a series of tweets starting with this one. Above post includes a few spelling corrections.)

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