The sun comes up
city hums
scene unfolds
benches and bums
curtains draw
turgid air slides in
sweaty sheets
nights in sin
screaming kids, hurried men
coffee cold
clock ticks on
the milk is old
doors crash closed
hasten to the street
crowded bus is late
can’t find a seat
sweaty pits and tits
pensioners moan
driver curses
the engines groan
late for work
what the hell
what’s the future
who can tell
this is man
happy, living free
housed in Sin City
built for you and me
