Robert Rorabeck

(04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Pretty, Pretty City


Now the city has a studded nose,
Because the city is so pretty, and the city knows:
The city, she almost fooled me underneath the
Chicken sky- The city is so pretty,
But the city lie:
I loved the city and all its vermilion moods and ice-creams,
With parks and busses and city airplanes
And city rides- City coffins and city dies;
And I watched the city get drunk and turn around
And raise its monuments and party down;
And I sat upon one of her benches in a speculating mood,
And wondered if the city was so pretty,
Why was she so rude: The vulgar nebulas of the city’s
Eyes, the narcissisms of its displays:
There are so many well suited boys better than I out walking
In their sunny city days:
And I realized, the city didn’t love me,
The city plays and paws and eats up little boys such as
Me- She said she loves her little poet boys, such as me,
But the sweet, sweet city lies,
Because the city is so pretty, studded nosed and stunning eyed,
But she uses her autumn facades to blind the autumn chicken skies-
The pretty, pretty city has me hypnotized,
But the pretty, pretty city lies.

Submitted: Friday, September 25, 2009

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  • Ken E Hall (2/1/2011 2:44:00 AM)

    Life in the big city hum drum of everyone going somewhere, only for the happy lucky people wlill they see a pretty city...great chicken skied poem...regards (Report) Reply

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