Air congeals
with a baby's cry.

Spray paint proclaims
that you don’t
****
with HCB,
*****.

Darting eyes of venom
warn against complacency
as iPods beat
hard-house hits
and lyrical dreams
of somewhere else.

Masses lurch forward,
brakes screech with agony,
waiting for oblivion
or 5:17pm express
as city succumbs to night.