Rivers of cars hiss on wet roads
A jet scratches its way overhead,
Leaving a wake of engine noise.
A tram rattles and glides away into white noise of suburbs.
Beyond washes of traffic,
The city hums.
An undercurrent
Like standing beneath power pylons.
It hums.
Its heart is a beating nightclub
Streets are arteries.
Blood cells are the people.
And, beneath air conditioning
And the swoop of menacing fans,
There’s a meditative hum and rumble.
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