The Street Crossing Journey

The veils could not cover those nude screams,
Yet few eyes could hear…. and fewer ears could see.
The mustachios, watered by bereavement, export deprivation to some thirsty hearts.
The mascaraed lashes only paint the tearsــــ  or a mother's sighing look ــــ black.
Massed.
Running.
A rush… A wide-long rush….
A maze… No red, no green.
A maze… Everyone grabs his two repelling poles.
Static.
Hesitation. Oblivion. Smiles.
Horns. Curses. Indifference. Smiles.
A rush…
A street wide-long sadomasochistic rush.
Static.