Mistress of Traffic

O! Cacophonic beauty of mine,

You dish it out in line.

Chaos amok from 0800 to 2100,

Peace galore for the rest of the period.

The searing halogens kill my eyes,

Rumbling honks crackling in the eardrums.

Yet, when I stand where the moon shines,

There lies the proof of life.

When I lie in your arms,

You caress me with heat and dust.

Your gaze reflects a million abrupt faces—

Faces irritated with the monotony of their days.

You hold my hand and show me a thousand stories,

There sits a peaceful pawnbroker, there lies a hungry beggar.

On Friday nights you show me those drowning sorrows,

And on Monday mornings those looking for blessings to borrow.

You adorn yourself with foolish lights,

The shrieking horns feeding your gargantuan diet.

Man whores around in your filthy roads—

Roads moving away from his goals.

Yet there will be those who shun you,

And oh! Yes certainly those who bend before.

But keep that free beggar in mind; keep that peaceful broker in tow,

There will rise a cure to your disease.

Who am I? You might cheekily wonder,

Yes, darling I am your biggest blunder.

I am that silent voice of hope in me,

My will has not yet broken in front of thee.