A furnace of concrete, petrol and cash,
city stream from the boiling streets
float above the blank-faced office towers.
To dwell on the hectic trading streets,
the city denizen must be astute,
as sharp as a swallow
at the turn of the season.
Sidestepping slow shoppers,
snapping up cut-price showstoppers,
drinking at the trendiest coffee shops
because all their friends go to them,
the watering holes of hollow insight
and futile strategies for the future
along with some rest from the tide.
Dodging traffic when crossing the road,
catching buses and trains on the go,
working indoors in the heat of day,
at the end of a chain of production,
heading finished articles to satisfy
the insatiable yet indecisive demand,
then walking home under the orange glare
when the street lights come out to play.
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