43rd st. by Charlotte Jones

Crowded
each street shoulders crashing
into each other
tick
tock
a different pace for everyone
thick pollution
blurring haze
vivacious illumination sparkling the cement ground
the flare of sirens
numbing hum of people's whispers and mumbles
click of the camera solid tee­shirt, oversized jeans
street vendor
covered in grime
driver’s swimming their way through the car stuffed street
only to find more
feet moaning
pounding on pavement clapping the sole against the concrete
promising signs
each individual original
new faces each day
separated from the world in music
rhythm of living
bumping
into