When you get to the city
tour it by foot
Let it guide your shoes
into the meadows
The entrance may be through a small patio
or a neighborhood park
It may also be behind a sign saying
“do not enter”
When you get to the meadows
you may not even realize it right away
In the meadows, buildings in the background look photoshopped
against the cloud-spotted sky
A red brick road goes through the lush, wet grass
lined with wooden benches
In the meadows, it’s always Sunday morning
Everyone’s eyes are still webbed with dreamy sleep
and they’re walking slowly wearing old jeans and old sneakers
holding paper cups steaming with fresh coffee
In the meadows, the newbies walk a dog or push a stroller
but the veterans walk alone on the red bricks with their paper cups
smiling at everyone and taking slow sips
The sounds of the city vanish in the meadows
Colorful, rare birds nest in the branches
of orange trees, showing off ripe, nurturing fruit
The veterans pick oranges into small plastic bags
and the newbies envy them for their courage
even though the fruit is going to fall to the ground anyway
When you get to the city
Be sure to listen to the soles of your shoes
Let them take you to the meadows
When you sit on the bench
next to the red brick road
You will finally realize everything is OK
But only then.
