Juxtaposition of some strangers bent
At table, stretched across lit midnight hour.
Crass surface chit-chat. Artificial flower.
Kaleidoscope social experiment.
Spiralling smoke-ring roundels’ stuffy scent,
Airing ephemera, in-greed-[s]ense sour.
No potent notions could this potion power
Draw deep from urban[e] melting-pot which lent
Just stale approximations to present
Inept platitudes, de[s]sert tale dour.
Lies left each locked behind moat, drawbridge tower.
Little attempt at outreach argument.
Some spite, some superficial chatter which
Together scarce deserved this sonnet’s stitch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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