In the jungle
Breezes cycle briefly
Through the trees overhead.
Monkeys squawk and
Jesus laughs a big belly laugh.
In Philadelphia
The talking commotion
Of the city is fueled
By the consumption of
Coffee and cigarettes.
Jesus is not present.
Instead you have
Hipsters in clown costumes
And sedentary tow-truck drivers.
Cheesesteaks clog the arteries
And local brews dissolve young men’s lives.
The city rumbles.
No one knows what
Keeps it alive.
Slavery and genocide?
Pill popping and organized crime?
Philadelphia is a sick,
Twisted place.
Hobgoblins search for
Change in the gutters.
Aristocrats in Audis idle
On congested street corners.
It’s a polluted planet,
And Philly doesn’t mind at all.
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