City Stew

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.