Hometown

A poem about my hometown

My hometown with trees like the hair of a rebellious teen

Their leaves shaking like the fists of stock traders

Its ocean feels like a swimming pool after leaving the hot tub

Its occupants suffer from agoraphobia during Winter

     but move like sunflowers during Summer

Their clothing is a Cubism painting done with crayons    

Its rain is Santa Claus leaving presents for those without proper footwear

Its sun is the shy kid who hides behind its older brother Clouds

Its wind pecks like a hungry vulture out for its next meal

Its cobblestone walkways jut awkwardly like British teeth

     setting even the most balanced off kilter as if they were in heels

Its buildings loom austerely like towers for watching inmates in the yard

Its dining halls serve the scraps left by kings for their dogs

Its buses are as trustworthy as Wall Street moguls

Its mall with the schedule of an elderly man who eats dinner at 4

My hometown is a mother bird watching as its baby falls from the nest