On The Rush.
Whether loved or hated a city has otherness.
Sane melts in a blink when thinking of cities.
Tolerate that and find life\'s verve underneath
its thick asphalt skin.
Sunrise mingles movement of street-vendor
noise with exhausts\' blackened fumes that
strangle quiet with odour of toxic staleness.
Country-side dwellers pack cameras and run
for excitable fun in neon\'s night-bright faces.
Convention, idolised by ceremonial allure
visitor-fever clutters streets of a city with
increasing intention its gilt-glitter to buy.
Eyes of all shades widen in wonder as mass
invasion of age-old custom dashes to empty
contents of wallets in perpetual holiday trade.
All praise for its generous resident welcome.
Hats off to city folk who love the familiar
celebratory féting of performance ritual
in coloured regalia before night\'s gaudy
take-over \'til morning\'s unshaven yawns
wink when waking to the late run again.
Yes whether liked or loathed a city boasts
not only glorious history but un-distanced
preference for living shoulder to shoulder.
Racing to earn crusts an early rush copes
with squeeze of discomfort as hands wryly
knead city bread with desire for its crumbs.
Accept crush to find its vibrant otherness.