Hotel 101 well, maybe 23.
At least thats what I see
on the concrete pllar
amidst the rivulets of dust
in front of me.

0130 hours sucking
on a cancer stick.
On the grass verge
a solitary tree,
perhaps a dozen leaves
choking to death.
From the dust across the street
where the cat rumbles
and the mech' digger
loads the trucks.

Me not moving in the 32C
and 60% humidity
unable to sleep
in a city that never sleeps.

Soon, maybe,
I will get to go home again.