the heartbeat of cities
resonates against the concrete,
footsteps tap-dancing on the well worn sidewalk
with ruptures from pushy oak trees
and black spots from old gum
deposited on the pavement
with the glorious gifts of saliva and apathy,
as the steps drum on
as the people walk, every movement quirky and original
each differently choreographed step marching to
the same beat,
to the pulse of teeming crowds
and the energy of insurmountable skyscrapers
looming in the not-so-far distance of this endless city.
one giant home
where ants crawl on the same streets as butterflies fly
elaborate colors contrasting the harshness
and blackness of just trying
to survive,
while the neighbors to a home of empty stomachs honk
the polished horn of their second Lexus,
a sound that resembles a cruel laugh
cackling because some can't eat dinner tonight
and they will never worry
about wrinkled dollar bills extracted from tight pockets.
and still the city beats
with no single heart, but a giant, encompassing one,
thumping to a rhythm heard by all
and acknowledged by few.
a rhythm that doesn't stop
in reverent recognition
or in sympathetic pity;
it survives independently
and grows from its own endless pumping,
powered by the lives of millions of people –
no matter how desperate or extravagant
they all contribute to the great collective
rushing heartbeat
of this uncontrollable city.