City Song

With its petrol and steel
its blood and its bone
its hard core of cash
and contingency homes
(and its cracked pots,
its clever words...)

In electric reflection
and shimmering sound
from the red of the sky
to the grey of the ground

(I swear I saw..)

and old man part
the traffic
like Moses
and stand there

for hours on end
with stillness
in air
conjuring space

yells its all right our kid
we’ll soon be there
it’s our rightful place
hold on

and he turned with a grin
and a spin and was gone
and the bones of the city
erupted in song
a cracked traffic rumble
a screech of elation
a hundred horn fanfare
of blind celebration
Blew its our song our kid
and we’ll soon be there
in our rightful place

hold on....