I can see medicine and its covered in garbage. At this moment I may wrap my fingers around the crooked chain link fence, but I won’t push my way in, because if I treat myself with that which grows here I’ll always see toilet paper and Lays potato chip bags.
Plantain, common mallow, sweet violet, mugwort, dandelion, cleavers and wild spinach are only just getting started. It’s spring in the city. We could be eating.
The city is humming, like a huge electric generator of appliances, wires and human pheromones. There are only small signs of the season. The trees in the little squares of earth are starting to bloom. I send up a sigh and ask it to visit the mountains for me, since I am not there myself.
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