city life

inside
the august air is overcooled, and dry.
the euclidian grid extends outward and upward,
box fractals dance on the concrete

grease smoke is seeping into my skull
the only splash of color is from vomit and pigeon shit
when i notice a column of ants, a perfect tendril
snaking up a concrete cube

the wavering rush of little feet
tight lines of blood-hued backs
reminds me where i am
and that i too can climb these walls

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