Rush hour


Morning rush hour starts the day
like ants we go to work
the honk of traffic
muffled by headsets and headphones.

The side-walk jammed with people,
all in a hurry, rushing
moving in opposite directions
endless flow of people hurrying.

the coldness of the city,
reflected in unknown faces,
no eye contact, not seeing,
technology their comfort.

Talking on their hand-phones,
they walk without stopping,
wanting others to give way
not sorry, only irritated.

They don’t see where they go,
knocking into others, stumbling
no apology, they just stare,
a look of annoyance on their faces.

The work day comes to a close
workers log-out and clock-out
five o’clock rush hour begins
traffic at a standstill on the roads

the subways crowded with people
a train approaches, the crowd rush
packed full, the train pulls away,
the platform empty but not for long.

sidewalks cramped with people
noisy, loud and pushy
daily, daily, faced with grid-lock
Rush hour, a maddening routine.

By C.E. Pereira


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