far from here, in country sleep
houses and hay-ricks are deaf to street-car clamor
innocent of thirty-foot signs
scything neon shadows through this room
where I am hot and sleepless in my shirt-sleeves.
I would imagine the moon
and sleeping under fruit-trees, but
my radio's short on country airs. No more help
in this heavy-metal fraternity of night, these shadows
sweeping muck across the carpet.
city, I have you, exactly where you want me
in the sooty palm of a love I did not choose.
Brian Purdy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/city-i-have-you/
