Walking through streets
Congested arteries of a city
Swept by rain
Brisk air
So biting when it hits my
Bare
Exposed
Neck
I stop
Looking past many winking cranes
Red and yellow monsters
Or awkward perched flamingoes
Nestled between mountainous buildings
Plastered with
Dog-eared and delinquent posters
They call it
Urban texture
Looking past
The Needle
Seattle’s own Eiffel Tower
I see jagged teeth capped with white
Like
Morning milk
Set welcoming in crates
Carried into houses of worship
Where the people partake
Of their morning coffee
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