Letter to a Former Friend

February 5, 2017

Letter to a Former Friend

You are the country and I am the city

I am the future and you cling to the past.

I am built to grow, and you are grown to last.  

You hate my filth.

My smog and steam suffocates you

And you are deafened by the clenching

Of the oily metal gears that keep me cranking.

I am filth and you are purity,

But people love us both.

People crave me like I crave them,

We ride our industrial wave of symbiosis.  

Your people love you, countryside.  

But mine are coming for you soon,

To spread my man-made flesh upon you

Like a concrete plague.  

You are beautiful, and I am ugly,

But soon the only parts left of you

Will be in spaces within me.

You will only exist as my accessory.

You will be my gardens,

Filled with fake soil and filth,

Littered with man-made flowers

Of colors you’ve never seen.

You are beautiful, but not extraordinary.

There is nothing that you can make that will

surprise me.

I have searched you and found

Every leaf and bug

Every peak and every crevice

That you offer.

Your wildest mysteries

Are now domesticated.

Nature is all powerful

And you will reclaim me in the end.  

But for now, let me destroy you.  

Let me make you mine.

Hurricanes and landslides

Are your defense,

And I welcome them with open arms

Because what you tear down

I can rebuild,

Stronger and better than before.

Yes.

I am filth,

Ugly and grotesque,

Covered with the spit and sweat of the people within me.

This ugliness inside me is a place,

And it rents for five grand a month.  

I take comfort in its walls,

Because I know you have none.  

Thank you for your emptiness.

It gave me a place to rebuild.

Always,

Sabrina