marvel at the natural beauty of;

gum stars on bitumen skies,

battered broken and bruised,


Weary eyed in lucky times.

city dreamers on the outskirts

grey skin from smog grey skies


twenty-something and passionately passive


hotshot kids run to us

then after a few years they become us

it’s a cruel cycle, a corporate curse if you will,

churning

out


dreary office drones and

diplomatic diversity.