Boston: A Poem
The city feels alive.
Electric.
My body shakes from the pure energy radiating off of the buildings and from the masses wandering the streets.
Some are going to their destinations: to work, a bar, a concert venue, or home.
Some don’t have homes to go to so they curl up on a street corner, waiting for a bit of kindness from strangers passing by.
Sometimes the kindness is there; other times it bares its teeth then flees.
The ground vibrates as the T snakes it’s way underfoot.
People migrate where their complicated and mortal lives lead them.
And me?
I parade right along with them, hoping to find my own path, but inevitably follow where others have been before.
