Human Traffic
Unharnessed footfalls meld with bike ricksaws
as antiquated oil belching buses roar.
Limo drivers bull their way door to door
to the sound of dangling baskets of macaws.
Hawkers shriek their wares without pause,
such is the Katmandu that I adore.
Unharnessed footfalls meld.
Men in open stalls serve tea from drawers
Sari wearing women behind veils rapport.
Orphaned children beg on from store to store,
the dross of life from which our eyes withdraw.
Unharnessed footfalls meld.
Contest: Rodine the Traffic of Life
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date: 7/21/12
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