Air that costs too much,
She pans from eye to eye -
trying to find the truth.
We all rush to take her hand,
she buckles beneath us
like a lame horse under a fat child.
We don't have the voice to say,
'let's take things slow',
'one at a time',
'let me catch my breath.'
We lay broken and breaking under the weight of her carelessness
and we rush, and we rush, and we rush, without thought of her fragility.
We complain,
she delays,
no other city would treat us this way.
A snowflake on the tracks breaks her back
and She nestles under the covers,
taking a sick day.
About the Creator
Linxi Van Romanovski
An obsession with origin stories, I write and rewrite my own. I don’t need a happy ending, I just need to know there is something else, something other than this. Give me something worth believing.
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