This City

Quick, go to the window!

You’ll see

this city.

Creeping by in the moonlight

in the streetlight

in the stony street.

It’s full of people making noise

but it is silent,

a silence that is regal

or bewildered, as if

it glides by in a silent gown

or is simply overwhelmed by itself.

There is nothing as beautiful as a city

except for

this city.

What, you say? I don’t even write poems?

I don’t! But before I went to the window,

the city came by, and left it

with a soft paw on my window ledge.