The City Down There Poem by Sonny Rainshine

When I drive home from work,
on the perimeter of the hill where I live,
and will forever,
I look to the right
at the city over there, and then
to the left, toward home;
my thoughts scale the incline
before I do.

Living above the city
seems more important than it did
when pretty girls and the swirls
of crowds aroused me, sustained me.

Urban persuasions undulate down there—
music, cafes, dance—romance. Up there,
only the dahlias are dancing,
the only diva the sparrow,
the day ends at 10 PM not 2.

Up there
the exuberance is defined
in the breeze. The air
above the city ignites,
like colliding weather fronts,
as the spirit of the city
waves goodbye
while I motor on up the hill.