Another Allegedly Better City

When I was fifteen
My dad left my family
For another allegedly better city

That better city
Was not a city
I was allowed to visit
Or even know about

I was simply told
That Daddy had moved
To a better city

And I remember thinking
Caustically, yes, because I was fifteen

I remember inserting the words--

'Allegedly Better'

Between the words 'Another' and 'City'

After all, it would have to seem better, wouldn't it?
Or else why move there?

Unless having me and my mother in the same city
Was what made our city unpalatable

Knowing my father, he would choose another city
That would seem better but wouldn't be
And his problems would continue to stick to him
Like summer sweat

But really it would be just another city
Another allegedly better city

I met my wife Jessica when I was nineteen
She runs a theater downtown
And she tells me that she's often losing artists
To other cities

Other allegedly better cities

I was never tempted to move
But then again, I'm a cancer
I don't like change

And I have a sort of, um, resentment
Towards other cities

Because I don't actually know
Which of them was the one
My father ended up moving to

So I defiantly stay put
And insist that I like my falafels a certain way
And I like my coffee a certain way
And I like my air pollution a certain way
And I stay, stay, stay

But lately, I've been feeling...tempted

I google photos of other cities
Los Angeles, New York, London
Last night I was up at 3am
While my wife was working on a speech
Shadily staring at photos of Philadelphia
Like it was internet porn

Suddenly my falafels don't taste as good as they used to
And my coffee seems like it has too much sugar in it
And I think to myself, You know, I'd like a little more air pollution
And I want to go, I want to go, I want to go

I wonder if my father wound up in Paris
Or in Tokyo
Or in some city in Chile
Where he romanced a woman
And began a Chilean life
That would make my hipster existence
Seem beyond pitiful

My wife would never leave here
She travels enough where she has no urge to leave
Whereas I'm afraid that if I ever left
At this point
I'd never come back

Don't misunderstand me
I'm not looking for a divorce
I'm not looking for an escape
The way my father did
I'm just looking for--

A next

I'd like a 'next'

My life is starting to seem like a book
That's gone on for a few chapters more than it should

I think of people sixty or seventy years ago
Who fought wars and went to Europe
And invented the martini

Those people had levels in their lives
Levels that I don't have

And now when you want to add a level to your life
What do you do?

You move

You move to another city
Another allegedly better city

And suddenly you're really doing something with your life
Suddenly you're progressing
You're traveling forward
Simply by traveling

I don't understand it
But lately, it does seem...alluring

. . . . .

When I was a fifteen
I had an image of where my father went

A city full of skyscrapers
And movie theaters
With the big signs out front

All-night diners
And coffee shops
And poetry cafes
And apartment buildings scattered
Up and down, everywhere

Constant noise and activity
Excitement, music, street festivals
Mom and Pop shops
Mixed with Starbucks
And chain CD stores

It was this perfect CD
And my father was there
Living the perfect life
Probably with another family, another kid
Another allegedly better kid

Who didn't stay out all night downtown
At his friend's band's show
Or at the Donut Hut
Or sitting on a sidewalk
Trying to get his future wife
To kiss him before the street sweepers
Turned the corner

That other city
Would have had to have been pretty great, right?

For him to leave me

Either that
Or I was just really lousy to be around

Maybe

All I know is that as I get older
I'd really like to see it
I'd like to see that other city

And see if it's really all it's cracked up to be