I can sniff it off the breeze
The smell of sweat, grime and grease.
There are other, kinder, scents too
Smells like home, with you.
I can see it from my window
The sunlight performing it's daily decrescendo
As the shadows recede, the revelry starts
Until the barmaid let's out 2 quivering farts.
I can hear the sounds that are descriptive of labour
Just testosterone-filled men trying to win the favour
Of their respective damsel, all petite and proper
Coming back home with wage-lined pockets, they saunter.
I can feel the cold through my wollen-clad skin
Despite all our feeble attempts, Mother Nature's win.
As the haughty titans of commerce
We frequently hear "There's nobody worse"
I can taste the crisp hot spice
Remnants of our history and culture of the wise
My senses on the brink of being overwhelmed
I go back to sleep and become the ideal citizen hence.