It’s Quiet, Now
It’s quiet, now
Just the sound of
distant traffic on it’s daily way
Skirting the early
dancing sun that chases mobile shadows
Commencing the ritual
of baking the rooftops corrugated iron
Noise, interrupts
I see the street and
fleeting feet
Of torso that come and
go, some fast, some slow
Glowing as the blowing
sand that swirls around the two girls
He shouts
Everybody hears the
Korean hailing a trike
Half decorated
motorbike, half tattooed man, who like
Nothing better than to
skin the fat cat on the earth’s scorched mat
It’s noisy now
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