Rushing and racing to  dead end driveways full of people
the cars and carts jostle for space on a thin highway
above another highway taking people fleeing from
one part of the city to another, unafraid
of speed, policemen and political rallies
that spring up with orchids blooms and svelte
women in jasmine pink and brocade dreams
of stardom on every giant poster that
speaks a commercial language of
love and lust and night queens in dingy cubicles
selling tanned and creamed bodies
to the almighty dollar.

Come night and the city lights sparkle necklaces
of pearls and petulant lips beckoning you
into the paradise clubs where masseurs knead
you wallet and your wads of fat flesh in a satisfying
slumber of sorts.

Watch out for the snake eyed policeman
who has a forked tongue and licks the wisps
of air, for sent of bribe and drugs that could be planted
on your person. He cares a **** if you spend
a lifetime in prison arguing your lost case
forever.

Nothing will change in a day or year
or eternity as long as the city covers all its
people with a corruption of senses.

Author Notes
Its all true.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.