This city

by writerlefter123

This city doesn’t like space

I mean space with a capital S

The magnificent planets

The somehow dead but still burning stars

The ‘too big, too far, too confusing, to contemplate for longer than five minutes’

Space

 

This city likes to pretend it’s the only place that exists

Keeps its head down

In denial.

 

This city is greedy, attention seeking

A child too big for it’s boots.

It doesn’t like things it doesn’t understand

Things that make it feel small.

 

But I like to feel small.

So just at that moment before dusk turns to night

But not so dark the street lamps have yawned awake

In those few minutes

I search for stars.

 

So I come up here, to the seventeenth floor, and I look up.

That way, I can imagine that I’m up there too

Sat on the edge of one of those burning lights,

Looking down at you.

 

And I’m laughing.

 

You think you’re big and strong

From where I’m sat you’re a scribble

A mistake

A bullet point amongst a sea of ink

Eyes cast downwards.

In denial.

Blinkered.

 

Now and again I’ll find someone else looking up

A face turned upwards, eyes glinting

A pearl amongst seaweed.

But it’s rare and it’s getting rarer

 

When we first moved to London

I wouldn’t stop crying for all the noise.

I was used to the sound of the sea

To rock me to sleep

Not car horns and loud voices

A clamour of confusion.

 

So dad bought me glow in the dark stars and planets

Which I helped him put on my ceiling

Me at the bottom of the ladder

Foot on the base

Ready to catch him and his stars should they come

Falling down.

 

He looked like god up there.

The back of the packet said the light would never fade

But I can’t see those stars when I turn out the lights now.

I asked dad why

He said

I guess it’s only plastic.

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