find yourself in the city.

find yourself hanging from a tree.

no, not in the most tragic sense,

not like those souls erased by the dixie tyrants of yesteryear.

but do find yourself, still.

you are nestled there—a leaf, or a berry,

just hanging there.

and you are alone.

just swaying in the wind, in the breeze,

while everyone else marches to their 9-5s,

   while they go to the youngest’s soccer match,

      or while they walk, blank-eyed

         into the freeway with one intention.

they are the worms below you, squirming.

this is not of your business, berry,

but you are free to watch.

no one will disturb you,

none of your high-rise neighbors,

or the chirpy birds next door.

nope, you are alone,

and don’t even

for

a

second

think that anyone will look up and find you.

so find yourself,

in the city.