*
People scramble cross streets (traffic lights have mild significance):
Do Not Walk?
Fuming busses belching black diesel;
Intertwining mass of cars and maneuvering motorscooters;
One carries a family of five:
Father driving with girl in front basket,
Behind him a brother in front of the mother,
Another child strapped to ma's back.
Some riders wear surgeons' masks
To filter the heaviest particles
Of fetid air.
Sometimes the mad machinery
Brushes your skin as it rushes past;
One close call you smell dead meat in the streets.
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