In My City
by Jarrod Stevens

There is beauty,
The mountains are green,
more green than granny smith apples,
they loom before me,
taller than any one thing I have ever seen.

In My City,
Mental pressure is abundant,
’cause we are livin’ space to space, like shipping crates,
with little between you and your neighbors’ property,
so unlike where I came from,
in the deep south.

In My City,
Perfect slowness greets me ‘fore the church bells ring,
bong,
Bong,
BONG.

Then,
the slowness gives way,
and adrenaline, buzz, and noise takes over.