Like a lover during make-up sex,
I enter this city aroused and angry
with something to prove.
I grab it by its gray hair,
pull its big head close to my mouth.
Into this city’s ears I whisper filthy things like:
“Your infrastructure is crumbling,” and
“Your politicians are corrupt,” and
“Your schools have lost accreditation,” and
“Who do you work for? Say their name. Say it.”
And oh! how this city takes every bit then
gives it back to me with an always-increasing exuberance,
beaming bedlamite, crooked teeth and all.