Time in the City
Heart in hands, the steady flow through the streets
Sidewalks flash by in the corner of their minds
empty, forever empty matchboxes and
Cigarette butts
In the rambling heads of
city-girls and business-men
rattling, forever rattling like the
Promises of a circus lover during the high moon
Like the words on a page dusted
By time and tears
Pointed looks mean nothing to the dead
As do the screams of taxi cars and
corner signs
fancy people
advertising vacations to eternity
Chicago people, Manhattan people
but
The only one who knows the difference is
city-girls and business-men
Living in their heads
living in some sort of paradox of reality
and that's how we
see, and the end of tomorrow awaits
Have a Happy Birthday