‘The Specular City’

The city caught me in strings of orange light.
I left behind those still and airless years in which
counting each slow hour of suburban dark
I sat, wanting my life to take new shape. And so
many silences, and the glances of strangers –
cold weights on the skin I struggled beneath.
Neons, night buses, synthetic basslines became
me, I knew I must step from the trap of it all:
rigid fences, clipped and measured lawns,
dining-tables always for families of four,
the life I had been told it was right to want.
In the flickering city, the people laughed at
the thought of my old home which held me
down, and when I was lonely. It was
a place fit only to be survived, that left me
tired, and where my life was all pieces –
but the city? The city was where I grew.

But the city – the city was where I grew
tired, and where my life was all pieces:
a place fit only to be survived that left me
down. And when I was lonely, it was
the thought of my old home which held me.
In the flickering city, the people laughed at
the life I had been told it was right to want –
dining tables always for families of four,
rigid fences, clipped and measured lawns.
Me? I knew I must step from the trap of it all.
Neons, night buses, synthetic basslines became
cold weights on the skin. I struggled. Beneath
many silences, and the glances of strangers
I sat, wanting my life to take new shape. And so,
counting each slow hour of suburban dark,
I left behind those still and airless years in which
the city caught me in strings of orange light.