This city was not built of passion.
It was built of commerce, bleeds
dollars as industries become nomads.
It is the city in which I love you
but never the city which I love.
Neighbors hear as I step
on your porch, switch on lights
pull back blinds just to check.
Even animals set off alarms.
We walk its streets, wanting
to shake hands with trees
as we hear street lights rattle
with a change of direction.
We want land that was once
a playground, awash in nature,
settle for a flower bed out back.
I love to love you in this city,
but it is this city that steals love
buries it in shopping malls
peddling plastic but never
the passion that we pawn.