My City

Where can I find my city? Is it over there? Or over here? Maybe it's underneath the ground, or perhaps it resides on a cloud on a sky. Is it upside down, or does it lie on it's side, gawking at me with an unreadable expression? Is it somewhere I can't see, right under my nose, or far, far away where I'd have to travel more than a thousand miles to arrive there? Perhaps I see it, but don't realize it?

Do I want to get there? Do I want to climb the walls around it? Perhaps there are no walls, only an entrance. Perhaps there are fences. White fences, black fences, red fences, wood fences, stone fences. Maybe it is only circled about with barbed wire? For all of the inhabitants are chickens? Or maybe the population composes of aliens, zombies, fairies, donkeys, flying keys, invisible people, ruined kings, bird-legged maidens, talking objects, and half-breeds of the kinds put together? Is there a magic fish somewhere? A lake that, if you fall into it, you're really just falling into the sky of another world? And perhaps there are inhabitants that have learned to survive without falling in that lake? Like sky-fish, and avimaids, swimming birds, winged sea-horses? Airplanes constantly fly up straight out of there, splashing water into a thousand tiny rainbows, for it is the only entrance to other worlds that there has ever been in existence. Do the people drink rain-water for supper, lunch, breakfast? Does it change color and flavor as it slides down their throats, lighting up into brilliant spectrum's as their final show as they go into the darkness of the innards? Perhaps my city is under-water? Perhaps I can fall off of it? Perhaps I have already? Perhaps I have no city? No. Everyone has a city. Not a single soul is left without one. It is just the matter of searching for it, and finding it before your clock runs out. Many clocks I have seen on the cold, hard ground, broken and stopped, never ever to move again. The frozen atmosphere of the world is what stopped them, turned them over on their sides, and had them stepped on, over and over, until they were given up and left there alone without any comfort or movement to call their own. So, I have to ask before time runs out on me. Where is my city?