Hurtling through
Mexico City’s open veins
Clotted in a subway car,
in a mash of black-clad phone gazers
Exhausted and swaying like hooked meat:
yet: over there,
face lit by yellow flowers
Her simple bouquet is a jungle.
Later
Roaming hills made green in the mist of the
Roaring sea
I see I’ve dragged with me
Scarifying roads
Stacked cinderblocks and
industry’s whirring saws.
Alighting here:
face lit by LED screen
Yellow birdsong drowned
in the screaming onrush.
