100 throckmorton

downtown fort worth
is the simplified version
of downtown dallas
these conjoined twins
one filled with art
graceful skyscrapers
the other dull gray
the frills exchanged for
a country feel in
one ways leading nowhere
two eggs frying in a
sea of rancid oil
bubbling along unaware
of the rotten tendrils
spreading like filth
in all directions from
the still concrete hearts
shrouded in a haze of
heavy hanging pollution

the streets are empty
the rare rotund businessmen
waddling awkwardly down
red brick sidewalks
in the shadow of the jail
western justice set
in a place of oppressive
prominence next to the yellowed
bricks of houses of worship
the bright colors and neon
in absentia under dour skies
a dejected rejection
in an urban sprawl strangling
the green to dull brown
pretending to be something
more than the awkward shadow
cast by its malevolent
opposite thirty miles away

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