Off in the foggy distance, the skyscrapers bloom.
The gears of cranes turn out another floor, another view,
another cold frame to be filled
by eager young dreamers.
Soon, they will outnumber the pines.
They will put pines on roofs; roofs with faux life,
balconies with manufactured green.
Vines to soothe the animal in us.
Forced smiles and fake barbecues.
Binoculars provide temporary relief
Chosen. Million dollar deals.
Need not venture out. Just take the elevator to the cafe, the gym.
Have your groceries delivered. Take the meeting in your bed.
Clouds conceal the penthouse.
Soon, nothing to see.
Stratosphere is the new ocean.
The birds flee.
Art in the hallway, behind the commode,
provides a convenient canvas distraction,
a feast for eyes that can’t see.
Can’t touch. Can’t smell. The forest.
Piped air. Crackless windows. The tower boxed life.
Soon, nothing to live.
~ Emily C.