In the bustle of the city crowd
you have no friend.
The paths of selfish customers entwine and merge and blend
as they shop with concentration and they chase the dividend.
They focus on their bargains and the messages they send
are to stand aside or suffer
in the callous city crowd.
The endless stream of faces, often vacant, never proud;
the bark of vendors’ voices, always strident, hoarse and loud.
The casual observer shook his head and sadly vowed
that there’s no such thing as kindness
in the market, in the city.
The ever-hopeful busker plays another tuneless ditty.
One watches him – not out of admiration, but of pity.
A spieler round the corner tries his hardest to be witty
in the crushing isolation
of the lonely, busy, focused, dizzy,
city crowd.
