Central Hotel - noon, sun rays

warp window table;

dust ferments,

noise erupts in waves.

Clientele fluctuate;

come, go, to, fro;

raise and drop, laugh and sigh;

fifty or more sweating, sated diners;

moving witty yarns

in widening circles.

Collection goes round.

Curt remarks

break the frisson

with a butter-knife.

Below swarming traffic

moves in stifling h...

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When

Living life at

Speed, if you blink,

You will miss it, thundering

Down the road to hell, thinking

This is not the Promised Land, since

You wanted something cooler, never

Planning an afterlife of flames,

A somewhat hottish heaven.

I found the way by going

Slow, do everything

At 33 instead

Of 78.

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