Morning Rush-Hour

The hum and roll pulls to a halt at the traffic-lights.
The grumble eases on and hoots in steel.
Serpents pour toward the city,
centipeding along gnarling and gnawing.

Oozing 'tween buildings,
convening off highways,
coloured tinkle splattered below helicopters.

Sirens order the blue flashes
to catch the dashers.
Hazy malaise sliding central.
Buildings eating the excess.
Rubber rolls the cans to the factor
delivering the contents into paper boxes.

The city burps.