when they tell me cities are dead

when they tell me cities are “inhuman,” “unnatural,” “dead”

Christopher Czermak on Unsplash

the lighted windows like computer chips on the sleek screen of a high-rise

are the city’s stars

the skyscrapers cutting into the sky with layered lines and arresting angles

are the city’s trees

the sheets of steel and glass rippling with cloud-shuttered light and river reflection

are the city’s streams

the phone interviews, accented cries, children’s chatter bubbling off the sidewalks

are the city’s birdsong

the hopes and wants and aches and fears in every subway ad and cardboard poster

are the city’s gravity

the rushing shoes of all sizes and styles, the clothes heavy and skimpy, the bodies

and minds and souls of each immigrant, native, newcomer, and tourist, the people

are the city’s thunderstorms and rainbows

its sunrises and tornadoes

its dark and its light

its life

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