in the city, everything breaks
and is fixed
everyone knows where the glue is—
everyone trips down the stairs,
doesn’t fall, and chuckles—
when the fire grows weak,
a log is replaced,
and the flames fall in—
in the city, the light doesn’t die,
it only goes dim, and everyone
has their own lamp—
the trees know how, somehow,
to keep leaves through winter,
to much chagrin from the wind—
and the bite of cold from that wind
bites down only on down,
woolen things, and thick coats—
and everyone knows
thick coats are everyone’s right—
at night, the city goes quiet, i think,
and for now that’s alright.
finn is kind of just a little guy who lives with his wonderful partner in seattle and they really would just like to live in some van somewhere or work on a farm for a bed. but that's not the present, is it? @gourdparent on twitter