pulse

Yesterday I was reminded that this city has veins. That if you stand still at a particular point on a particular street before a particular road, you can feel its pulse: a lineal earthquake, the cars and their rumble.

Yesterday I was reminded that this city is frail. Somebody made it so - put down the paving stones and built the sewers and mixed and spread the concrete. Cars drive along the pavement, cement seeps into soil.

When the cars are gone, the pulse subsides. A moment of stillness. Then more cars. As the ground shakes, I am reminded: Frankensteined together, dead things come alive.