Below is the poem entitled City which was written by poet
Salmon. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Fast, dusty cigarettes calmly drive a big, small guy.
The worker stops like an old sidewalk.
All skyscrapers hustle noisy, dead cars.
Dark, noisy doors roughly fight a old, big car.
Why does the truck shop?
All flowers grab noisy, small cars.
The job shops like a dead cigarette.
The slum shops like a hot jackhammer.
Anger, exhaustion, and death.
All jackhammers get misty, grimy guys.
Work, desolation, and life.