Sunday, February 21, 2016

The dusty city



The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
Sodium vapor lamps and yellow lights on street corners.
Poor, lonely men consumed by tobacco smoke and shadows.
The women of the night who cannot keep them company.

The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
The children trekking hills of garbage to reach the summit.
The smells of cheap cuts of meat on an open fire.
Artificial colors in place of real.

The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
A hundred different odors vying for my attention.
The scents of perfume and excreta mingled in one uneasy breath.
The concrete jungle--the masses taking what they can get.

The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
The noxious fumes and the smell of kerosene.
The home to a million dreams of decency and salvation.
Therein lie my own.

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