Short-order restaurants and drive-thru stores too.

The "wonderful" neighbor who borrows from you.

Freeways, highways and subways it seems

are part of the package; our transport means.

Trash and pollution hinder our view.

They make the sky brown rather than blue.

Houses are smashed so close together

that privacy, I guess, is gone forever.

Tin cans and bottles scar flowers faces,

of bright green grasses there are no traces.

Puffs of pollution spurt into the air;

look at the gutters. Trash gathers there.

Candy wrapper wreaths surround the trees.

Through the dense smog we can see no leaves,

yet we know they are there; books tell us it's so

and every fall to the ground they will go.

They mix with the mess that people've thrown there

to make a brown mess much like the air.

The neighbors are yelling; such an awful sound

just like the jackhammers that continue to pound.

Nearby a kid falls and continues to wail,

sounds like a cat with a foot on it's tail.

Occasionally a chirp can be heard 'bove the din

and a canine howl with each piercing siren.

An occasional cat may be seen by you.

They chase the rats that live here too.

As far as animals go, few others are seen.

They like the country where air is clean.