No sounds of sirens, ghetto bird patrols, gun shots, squad car engines downshifting, Mariachi Band rehersals, or Tom Cats fighting in the trees for a piece of pussy. No site of television commercials while I pump gas in my car, enter an elevator, cafe, gym, patient room, bar, or bathroom. A hoe on the street corner near here would be completely bananas; they can't be found. No elderly folk with sun blisters asking for change at the intersection. No site of a fat toddler at the laundrymat, not hungry, being silenced with a bottle, learning early to associate processed sugars and food with comfort and security vs. Love and affection. Only sound up here in the Snowy Mountains is the wind hitting my tent weaving thru the trees. Only site is the Moon's reflection off the pure white; Or the water vapor from my exhale against my night light. Gotta get a break from the Concrete Jungle sometimes. #overdue
Author: Christopher Gonzales
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