As I sit
13 stories above it all
I see the city has a story to tell,
One about how
The cold spring wind blows cars and buses
In and out of alleys and side streets with which I’m not familiar

How parking lots that sit empty tonight
Will be filled with renewed life at dawn
How the helicopters seem to hover not only in space but in time
Because as the cars roll down blocks of city streets
We can see her stretch and prepare for the evening’s rest
We hear her yawn with car horns honking and the dull idle of a bus engine
Oh yes, this city has a story to tell

The red lights light up like fresh scars that tell us to stop and admire her for a moment
The muffled roar of the constant traffic drums like a heartbeat
And she screams with the whistle of a train, reminding us
That she will not go quietly into the night

As the darkness of the evening begins to drip off of every building and cracked sidewalk corner
She begins to lower her eyes
Leaving them closed long enough for all the
Homeless to have their bones eaten away by the cold night
And for all the shady drug deals going down on these unforgiving streets
To happen, unseen in her eyes but still a part of her
Like freckles on her beautiful face

And she will awake tomorrow anew, fresh with those who work nine to five
To support themselves within her
But in all reality she is supporting them with her
Broken brick buildings and the traffic jams on Main and 7th Street
With her little coffee shops and corner bars
And the local music shop that has live entertainment every Friday

She has a story to tell
Whether it’s about the people that have stuck with her through it all
Or just passersby like me,
Sitting up here, reading her story
We all have left our words on her in our footsteps
And our fingerprints on every doorknob.
We give her a story to tell
All we have to do is listen