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.