The city is carnivorous.
It guzzles rain
and swallows pedestrians and tourists,
stacked like grains of rice,
until it gets its fill of us.
The drip of unknown wet,
superfluous.
With roads slick like the backside
of a hippopotamus,
we cross each lubricated surface,
both rank and dangerous,
not knowing which alleyway will off us.
Windshield wipers rip the skin,
but we move past them with a purpose,
even if in the end
it means a heavy loss.
©2025|K.F.Hartless
Cover Art: Nicholas-Di-Genova
black midi “bmbmbm”
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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