In the city streets where
The populace is excessive
There is a restless buzz
Folks flock like moths to flames
Yearning for the smog to
Burn brilliant holes in their lung
The immediacy
The newstands
Springing into the bustle
Is akin to a sunflower
Blooming from within
The dank earth
Like a potion that promises
Immortality
A deal that tastes like kinship with
The source of life itself
Reflected back by yield signs and
Neon lights flashing on the pavement