Yours to Discover

Are you the favourite, child?
Clamouring for her attention
Amongst the multitudes of dusty faces
Crying out for the cold, soft touch of anonymous care
Until your numbers fade from view

Slide on, sweet child
Past the glass houses built on grounded bones
Past the greasy shirts and red thumbs
Past the smokestacks and the brine
Past the professional opposition begging your indulgence
Past the last man on Barton
Past the squatting doctors
Past the late clerks checking off another sick day in Starbucks
Land in your paradise headfirst, deep in the sand
Hold your breath
She'll come get you soon