the traffic is at a standstill like rows of angry crabs waiting re-entry into the ocean big claws snapping while the little claw taps the asphalt chittering back and forth as they face perpendicular to the highway

a terrapin convention to the north as they crawl upon the high-rise ramps like the world’s worst rollercoaster the light reflecting off their shells like a sunburst constellation of gentle golden arches gleaming

i love the city but goddamn i hate the mess everything that draws me in leaves an oilslick on my tongue as learn to despise the not so subtle grinding of a person’s spine to calcified bits of who they once were before