from here

i think we're alive,
even beneath the sky
of a city like this,
the street lights yellow
to the point of illness,
the sirens a wail
echoing down the length of the highway
as we wait to cross
while the ambulance roars past.
but i still have your hand in mine
as we wander down the road, sidestep
the man begging on the corner,
breathe through the cloud of pot in the air
from the couple passing by
and then turn back
before we approach the part of downtown
that barely feels safe during the day,
let alone at night.
i am not from here though,
yet it is even as it is reaching the point where i forget,
i am still startled upon occasion.
i can now feel the print of the grid along my skin
as i walk throughout the city, duck
the overhanging branches from the yards
beside me and jaywalk from where
the sidewalks end and the bike lane begins,
with only a small thought of a prayer
to not be hit in traffic
on my way to meet you.
for we are always walking now,
the sound of one footfall and then
another, the descent of the temperature
into the night, my hand in yours
and your lips on mine as you kiss me goodnight
in the early hours of the morning.
there are still cars driving by as we part,
the street lights still blinking yellow in the dark,
my body humming slowly to the chill in the air
as i make my way home.
for eventually you get used to a city like this.