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busyness of business roads,
long lines of sloomy silverware waiting to rush for gold,
to a destination of seasonal pause and dramatic screenplays,
in a city with a slim sanity & a conventional craze,
the center of excellence; citadel of the streets,
stay off it if you’re not a mix of fads & wits,
hustle is the game, bustle & be paid,
whichever ways, these are commonplace of popular hearsays,
of a big place smaller than its people,
of rush hour in slow seconds & the effect is ripple,
ankles, wheels & other moving things are preys of this procession,
so, how do you make a U-turn when there’s no where to turn?
Everyone is sane but the acts doesn’t say the same,
the bridges, the lagoons; have all danced to the zany tunes,
survival of the fittest — waiting dishes a delicious meal of fitness,
to meddle with the lane, is to pave an eternal gate way,
these oddities have earned normalcy,
routine of an everyday society,
the karma of too many go-getters stuck in a city of opportunities,
listen to the music — the traffic jam plays out on dreams and realities…

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