In Her Arms

A love for a city

The city, she breathes with me. The rolling fog on sleeping streets is our exhalations. I make my way past closed shop signs and lightless windows, a smile without teeth. I seek the cracks and crevices for unspoken truths and an untold history. I feel her watching me as I walk and I know I must be one of the few people awake at this hour. The city and I are drinking in our solar wine, the first few flares peaking over the horizon. She holds no grudges and bares me no prejudice. Though I’ve moved too often to call a particular city mine, every city I visit I make my home. I find the pulse and let her flow freely through the chambers of my heart, until we meet again.