Black tarmac streets run
drips on a mirror.
I hear noises.
Cars breaking
guls cracking

Big city
yet,
the pause.
I am lost
not alone
 
There is an old church god left 
or maybe it was rich people 
to feel less guilty 
about their money 
or their thoughts 
 

I like this
louder, satisfying quiet.
Don’t miss the field 
Got a square of green here
and structures of man