They plunge in the adrenaline rush of yet another day.
Converge with the faceless crowd, the rough rhythm
And noise, crackling, all around.
They walk, long, irritable steps in the dusty bends
Of the winding, serpentine city streets.
The cars, trolleys and the fresh paint
Of the sightseeing city buses brush past,
Nonchalant, no strings attached.
The parched, plastic looks of the buildings
And skyscrapers, the placid nooks and corners
Of the giant fast food joints, a city throbbing
With rootless souls, fusing in transient comfort zones.
The madness and euphoria of trampling on
Their forlorn ancestral homes, meandering,
Scattered, cutting through their repainted contours.
The city entraps them, greedy, formulaic,
In long-term mortgage and bills.
The lumps in the throat, the cracks in the skin
Forgotten embers rekindle, tongue-tied,
Gather and circle around in speckled, torn flesh
In the murky, wrinkled nights.
They had nibbled on the juicy recesses
Of their roots, stripping bare
While the morning coffee and croissants
Numbed their mouths, pale, bitter, tasteless.
With mismatched steps, they now meet,
Talk a load of crap and forsake each other
In the dead end of the city, panicked, restless.