This tree breathes in the fumes of the city, yet its trunk grows wider, its branches taller. This tree sips at the refuse of the gutters, yet its glossy green leaves return every Spring along with the dusty pollen of life. How I admire the persistence of nature, yet despise the persistence of Man.
A streak of forked lightning, the clap of thunder and the rain begins to pour. The roads channel hundreds of frantic fish sweating under plastic ponchos flipping their fins, gasping for oxygen in a slick oily stream of exhaust.