My name is Solomon Levi, the desert is my home, my mother's breast was thorny, and father I had none.

The sands whispered, <i>Be separate</i>,
the stones taught me, <i>Be hard</i>.
I dance, for the joy of surviving,
on the edge of the road.

Note:While being borne forth in the web of tunnels underneath the clanging, steaming, and booming hulk of a city, he spies this poem in the grafitti etched intestines of that human-filled python, and thinks how appropriate a summation it is of living in this city of hustlers, of many stripes and many feathers.