Written by Jack Andrew Cribb
Sunrise house, ninth avenue,
arrondissement of light, city of god,
smoke drifts between chimney stacks and
the alleys smell of sex,
apple cores strewn on the grocer’s floor,
take in the yin of the streets,
dance with the yang
in deepest pink marshmallow sky.
The statues are covered in graffiti but
the gargoyle multiplex, the rich pastry swarms,
the heat soaked into cobblestones warming those who sleep rough,
the butchers and libraries full of blood,
the banana milkshake magnet pulling everyone
to the core,
Ts’ui Pen’s labyrinth at the centre of it all.
Make love and first times on a friday,
how many first times has this city felt?