City Dwellers Poem by Julia Klimenova

This hand-cream is rich and nurturing
Just like the soil in the field.
Not that we’ve ever scooped up soil:
We’ve read about the feel.

Once in a while we touch tree bark
When picnicking in the park.

We are the city pigeons
Pecking at crumbs, not seeds.
Bus-sheltered from the showers,
Strutting on stiffened feet.

Putting up plastic windows
To block out noise and dust.
Buying sterile illusions
That end up going bust.

Our skin’s protected from the frost.
Our eyes are shaded from the sun.
Our minds – from troubling, subversive thoughts.
Posh cages turn out to be fun.

We are the city-slickers.
So slick it makes one sick.