Those in love have a hidden city
they get to enjoy,
a chamber their affections carve
out of the otherwise cold concrete
tucked inside the metropolis,
they inhabit a place
where the gutters turn inside out
until they become avenues
once there, they find a set to play
spectacles immune
to traffic horns and rat kings,
garbage piles and pigeons galore
among them, those pigeons fly
like streetwise eagles,
while landmarks fade to give them
a glowing neon romance
hand in hand they walk in a city
with no delays or missed pickups,
and all the sidewalks
seem empty, even if I am there
Ben Nardolilli is a MFA candidate at Long Island University. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Door Is a Jar, The Delmarva Review, Red Fez, The Oklahoma Review, Quail Bell Magazine, and Slab. Follow his publishing journey at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com.
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