City Stew

An overwhelmed walk through the modern street

There is literally
no place to go

and yet I'm surrounded
by onlookers

who zig and zag towards me
staring
turning
passing

Cars race

fumes replace flowers

loud voices demand this
that
who knows

The hum of cars and machines
sirens
the chill of cold May air
the vibration of locomotives
against solid brick walls

More busy bodies
coming
going
zigzagging

There is no place to go

Screens in left hands
screens in right

screens in front
behind
above
and below

It is hard to breathe fumes

Even the dogs
look downtrodden

This is not a love poem

yet the world races

Where are they going?

Besides around
and around
and around.

A poem by Pemba Umoja