To the Cities I Have Only Visited on Layover – by Morgan Nikola-Wren

To the Cities I Have Only Visited on Layover

I have not seen
the parts you save
for your more devoted guests.
But you showed me
your concrete slab of a back-end,
and trusted me
with your hurried outskirts.

I have not spent more
than a fraction of a day
on the fringe of you,
but I have caught
your newborn sunrise
in the corner of my eye.

I had only a few spare hours
tucked into my suitcase,
but I spent them all at a window
watching you dress yourself,
and press yourself
into a skyline that could impress
while I lingered
among your cast-off motels.

I have seen
the red-eyed wanderers
that you spit across borders
with tumbleweed hair
and not enough toothpaste
in their carry-on.
We carry on
like old friends
for the length of a gate’s line,
until I am watching you shrink beneath me
into matchbox cars
and patchwork squares of grass.

I tell myself you cities all look the same
from the upside of the clouds.
I tell myself there’s no point
in wandering my way through you now.
It would be redundant,
like kissing someone
who has read all your poems.