City

He is in love with her right now
the evening before October
on the banks of the Hudson.

The moisture in the air makes the city diffuse,
fluorescence
and grime
to still be alive
pulsing at a slower rate.

Dim lights make charcoal paint out of the deep
gray concrete.
Winds of hurricane ask they city dwellers to wait,
wait,
wait for it
surely it will come.

They are too busy to look and wander,
to ask about what they will never know
the answers surround them
overly fluent
they cannot hear
warning drops
rustling leaves remind you the city can be weak
she can fall
she will leave if you don't follow her.