The City Entry

They, as in everyone including me.

They live inside this version as though no one else exists. (no filmesque wording nor driving century-old words below hell today)

I am not going to grandstand and say anywhere else in the county is better. The cliques speak for themselves. The styles of what is considered class, wealth, social notoriety; the white Porsche Taycan becomes a black tinted Cadillac CT5. Both send the same signal to millions of people a half hour apart.

Comparing where I used to live and where I do now. Every assumption made about the other side is a myth. The othering is most definitely real. Look at me type this. Says something about me I refuse to know.

They look upon the city and trail their eyes upward to god. The sky can get so blue here. Sometimes, on a clear day, visibility can be as far as 45 miles if you check your weather app. Go find something tall, you don't know what it is. You will not go unless dragged there.

Six New York islands could fit in the basin and still leave room for as many freeways the ford motor company could dream of. The people who arrive never learn the measure of distance. No one asks to meet in the middle. They only learn the limits of the lease, the block, their ride to what they do when the sun leaves. I mean, the cost of living crisis is horrible. Maybe the weekend.

Wait in its entirety. It does not fold itself down to fit the smaller versions that people carry in their heads.

You will miss a freeway exit eventually. Leave an orange peel out and it hardens. It's cleaner to pick up a hard peel than soft one.