a newspaper flaps
like a broken bird
on warm bitumen
the hollow, rattly
sound of buses
echoes in tunnels
clutch in, gear out
gear in, clutch out
turn left, turn right
try not to turn at all
movement without
thought or progress
a single person in each
with a single purpose
we hum, roar, clank
wait, rev and fume
our separate ways
slowly
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