I think I need the city to be alive because who else

     what else would walk with me but 

         an asphalt temple with a voice like 

               sirens and air conditioner hum.        It’s 3:02,

which means that I won’t see another person until dawn.

       but I’m not lonely in the city, 

                tracing its aorta streets and 

                    nerve cluster telephone wire.     I’m wandering,

wondering about how this all works.  

      do these streets walk me?  or do I just haunt them?

          do I have cement for marrow?  traffic light self-control?

                     I want to ask the city.              but I don’t know how,

not any more than I know how to talk to people.

      there’s something unpleasant about both of us.

           I breathe out smog, the city bleeds out red.

                   and neither of us are ready               to sleep.