I love back allies: the slightly dangerous places where one finds
new hinges on broken doors, the heavy wood collapsing;
the utter silence of lamplight on cold cars, the haze of long corridors of space:
the rare beauty the city hides in the back of its mouth, the we in who we really are behind the glittering smile, where my soul sighs and says “I’m home.”
© Dan Goorevitch 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Back alleys are our allies. The city hiding its wisdom teeth behind glittering smiles. I, too, love these alleys ... the discarded refuse, the old doors ... but fear them as well. Lovely imagery. The we in who we really are.
Thank you, Anonymous. You yourself have written many fine poems ;)
Post a Comment