fills the sidewalks with outside seating

girls in sleeveless tops and maxi dresses

march down the street

a flock of pink pigeons

set free to feed

off our plates

The turn of the century 

walk ups

with their Edwardian charm

and constant disrepair

the only thing that is controlled

in our inflated existence

of 60 hour work weeks

happy hours, weekend binges,

recovery brunches 

is the rent

so we, like the rusted chandelier in the foyer,

have become fixtures here

Leaving windows wide open 

to let the heat escape into the night

with the click clack of heels

the crackle of the electric wires

as busses run by

I guarantee the city

will not sleep tonight

We will lay in a pool of our own shared sweat

sealed in motionless

staring at the ceiling fan shadows

yearning 

for a breath of fresh air