the city that always sleeps

By Anonymous

the not-busy streets of new york city and their not-glow of life

i read about you in books, alive and bursting at the seams

and just like i imagined, you hold so many little people in your silver hands

though i heard no one here ever slept, the whole of you and your beehive

are caught in a slumber i cannot rouse you from

i am learning to navigate through the organized streets

step over another piece of a building (or a person)

care to see the sights with me? the crumble cake pieces

of a proud green statue that still stands sideways at the bottom of an ocean

maybe the skyscrapers scraping the concrete or a square where all the clocks stopped working

the food is described to be delicious but i am served

beans in cans which are the only things to remain in your fully stocked grocery stores

your subways are said to be efficient and i can tell that

the skeleton of the train can take you anywhere

because we are in the city of dreams!

i wonder what all the little people are dreaming of in their sleep

maybe of the next day, the day after that,

and the not-busy streets of their new york city