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Signs MAG
Horns honk incessantly,
There's never a solo
In this symphony of commotion.
A man waves for a taxi.
Rude faces glare at the pavement
As if eye contact were sinful.
Billboards encumbered with propaganda.
Garnet graffiti camouflages cement walls.
Car fumes and smog offend my nose.
I flinch as my unsweetened coffee burns my tongue,
My taste buds now dulled to its bitter taste.
The streets are littered with signs,
One Way
This Way Only
No Turns,
A dismal and acrimonious reminder,
That I have nowhere to go.
© Anonymous
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