Friday, February 1, 2013

Summers in the City

Transformers hum atop their wooden poles, spitting lightning through copper wire from home to home. A distant dog announces the passing of a stranger to all who would listen, and a random teen’s tin lizzie roars to life before clunking into gear and chugging off to the next kegger in a long line of all nighters. It is a strange silence the city has to offer in the wee hours. Odd gunshots, or firecrackers if one is inclined to hope, snap through the haze of twilight as if bullwhips intent on creating the smallest of scars. There will be sirens. Perhaps not this moment, but each night they will shout out the pain and frustration of too many in too small a space with too little to eat.

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