A City Consumed

With no headphones

In, the chords of a city

Come alive

And coarse foosteps

Trudge over silky, cold, breaths.

Whispers from wood panes

Are smoldered by the halt of a bus

And for the first time

A broken voice reached

In, "Could you spare a few dollars?"

A harmonized jingle

of a change cup, and

The repetitive arching screech of a lone swing

Fall into rhythm

And over the recess debauchery at

Leonard R. Flynn,

Sirens consume the music of cities,

As most colossal beast do.