there is nothing here but tar and stone
distant green faded to dismal grey
pulsing choking almost breathing as they wait
cars and buses vans and trucks at a standstill
confined and walled-in by ravines of artificial light
keep humanity at bay keep us bound to drudgery
and drive-time diatribes with chain-music bleating us
into silence and the news-beats mumbling
© BH, 2023
This is the third part of 'narrow lanes'. The full poem can be read here.
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