The bus is double decked for fear

that those below might come too near,

and break the spell of motions peace

where trials and tribulations cease.

 

I float above the addled Streets

on clouds of ruined ragged seats,

I see the penned in office slaves

computer screens, like headstoned graves…

 

Traversing through this fashioned feast

I’m swallowed by some other beast,

a parasite of endless queue

that once used up becomes as spew…

 

And those behind will follow on

to pass on by where all have gone,

their work and toil will be forgot

if once they had, they shall have not.

 

The Street is one step from us all

we’ll meet it willing or we’ll fall,

trapped inside or passing through

to stay or leave, is up to you.