Overslept and tired.
An early start
17 hours a day.
Broken with slashes of sound.
7.43 million Motorbikes in
** Chi Minh City.

The street flowers dying,
no air to breath.
And miles to go before you sleep.
The grass consenting to the dollar,
packs up and leaves the city.

Returning, resuming,
threading your way between
the grey faces.
And the men looking for
someone special today.

The hurt and wounded
pass by quickly.
No soothing hand to pacify
the restless all dark nights.
Some suffer so much.