the aftertaste of the city exhaust i'm inhaling is bitter now,

and bitterer still since i'm forsaking these buildings for the country.

will i ever integrate, be part of the amoeba? i'm three hours out

and counting. the city will be excised from me like a bad dream.

i never was enough for the city, and maybe the city isn't enough

for me. if the city wants me, i guess i'll play host when it comes

to visit. i'll serve it tea, and we can sit amongst the stacks of

books and remember how many young girls, like me, once yearned

to be in the belly of the beast.