City

There's just something about the yellow cabs
the roar of the street, the blink of the crosswalk,
heels clicking on concrete, the neon lights,
people rushing by, subway doors closing,
the strip of sun on the platform, buildings
towering overhead, the smell of car exhaust,
the dart across the street, slipping into
rotating doors, boxes called elevators.

I don't expect them to understand
how I would take the hustle and bustle
over the quiet roll of hills and the dull
cruises across fields and slow drives
to work. It's hard to explain
to people so wrapped up
in their little lives that the city
is where I belong. I belong
among the fashion magazines
and skyscrapers. New York Times
and Wall St. I like the sleepy towns
but under the spotlight is what I love.