A hundred legs bend and straighten across the nylon sea floor
All in their own directions, their own degree of haste and sails
The low lights dull our faces as the footfalls dull our ears
Down the concrete steps the bladder almost busting
Past the half burnt carts of food vendors and peddlers
Then into the overpowering light and stench of the public toilet
The hand size square white tile walls stained with mystery colors
The cleaners running desperately in and out of each bathroom
Like a dog fish into the concaves of the coral reef
heaving soaked mops as if it were a flaming heavy lance
As quickly as I entered did I leave
The bus a whale beached
Still empty
A tweeking cellphoner here and there
The bus flips it´s tail down we´re gone
as if the city were an ocean that shone
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