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

Big city.
Then I felt it,
the pause.
I am lost
not alone though
 
There is an old church god plonked down 
maybe it was the rich people 
to feel less guilty 
or the old money 
probs both 

Still think about the fields at home.
Don’t miss them. I like this
louder, satisfying quiet.
Got my square of green here after all
wrapped in by structures of man