I90 Corridor

My cities are my life, writ large in steel,
Twisted around an elevator core,
Shining with glass, embodied, solid, real,
Recording everything that came before,
But also slipshod, lived, and temporary,
Erased like footsteps as the rain drips down,
Sometimes important, sometimes ancillary,
Composed of parts that bleed, inhale, and frown
And yet make something bigger than they are
Merely alone: that, though forgotten, join
All into one-steel, footstep, heart, and tar-
And make something that can't be bought with coin,
Or made by artificial or synthetic arts
Like cities lives are more than all their parts.