City Poem by Jacqueline Vega

Where do the raindrops go when they leave the sky?
And where do these people go?
I do not know
As they trickle through crevices of streets
And swirl in mingling pools of paved-out grey
Sparkling a stark landscape
And flooding neighborhoods
A wallowing wonder of stagnant spray

They fall on concret highways and grass-green turf
They go to their boxy buildings littered with yellow cars
To their plastic food stores masked in glittering gold and red

They go somewhere to die
They fall and sink into the earth

But for now they fill up the concret highways and grass-green turf
They come and come and come again
Until they are no more
Just balck against the asphalt