The sky wept above me,
silencing the city,
becoming a wind-chime world
in which I sat
rocking in rhythm with the rain,
cigarette smoke colring the clouds.
And then the steady growl
of pollution filled the air
as the sky dried her eye
and life was thick with things that should not be,
every breath laced with death
and I rocked in rhythm with the routine,
selling my soul to the city
where serenity is sirens
and people are shadows
and I am nobody.