In Cities, everybody wants
what everybody else has,
‘cause they know it’s not worth
any more than what they already got.
Almost everyone will act serious
if they think it’ll help them get listened to.
A little tyke standing out by the street motioned me over and said he distinctly heard a sound coming from the sidewalk that said, “Anything worth doing is worth skipping - congratulations.” (It was a warm day, and the pavement was hot.)
From a diary discovered near the outskirts of the City, one page consists of this sentence, “A man told me, ‘The Revolutionist’s mind is a sight to behold.’” I couldn’t hear the rest of what was said because of a crack in the mirror.
On one of those infrequent days when he would speak to himself, this one ole sore skull looked at his reflection in a smoothed-out piece of tinfoil (he kept telling himself he would get a real mirror as soon as his financial position moved into a more favorable position, but he just never seemed to get around to it) and said, “An then, as if things weren’t bad enough – YOU had to show up!”