Streets set out in grids that spell H, horizontally.
Designed for dog days, horses, carts
clogged with cars like this sports
job with smoking windows
a sort of go-kart for grown-ups
The queue goes nowhere, fast
never mind the bass
the snakes on the pavements
unnerved with the trembling, vibrating.
A horn on stone sets a heart
to leap with a fish straight out
of the crystal water.