A Pome a Day for a Year

Teems of life spilling over worn uneven pavement
fill street after street alongside metal carriages
containing even more of the organisms.

They dance like this every morning,
waltz one way for a time
spend some time in a room 
(Occasionally with a view)
before replicating a mirror movement 
back to the preferred room.

Back and forth, 
daily slides around each other,
some on the same quicksteps to the same locales
others crossing cha chas toward
opposite ballrooms,
where the rivals samba.

The beat of congestion,
the beat of progress,
pulses and wanes unheard but felt
and the choreography never taught
but felt within and driven forward
by all who boogie, bop and shuffle
to the tune of society.