Tim Suermondt

The City

I walk around it

as if I didn’t have a care,

holding every care at bay.

I do have a packed suitcase

in the closet of my apartment,

ready for any emergency

though I have no desire to ever

leave. I love the city, and it loves

me, nonsensical as that must sound

to those who aren’t in love.

In the park by the lake I’m still

amazed by the odd but beautiful

peach and pear trees and on clear

days how the sky hovers over

the tall buildings like a blue painting

and how the sunlight bathes the ground

and all the city’s inhabitants.

Before I get on a tram I always say

goodbye with a quick wave, never

knowing exactly when I’ll return.

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