I don’t like your cities, your grey filthy
Sidewalks, your cold gritty air, your soulless
Buildings, your blank rootless people who dress
Like each other and do not care to be
Anywhere else but inside metro areas
Where they can buy Thai food at night as
A way to express freedom from dreary
Lack of sophistication. I don’t think
Haute cuisine comes at 3 AM, and I
Don’t think cultivation comes with rent due,
With stop signs, with littered streets that trail through
Sunless gullies made from buildings so high
They have no beauty, just functionality
That doesn’t care how many souls must shrink.
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