We were talking about noises in city
Of motor cars with sounds of horns
Buzzing about like halos of insects
On a night of rain, on road to riches.

Riches are high decibels ,your road
Leading to nowhere, gold and jewels
All lying in built-in cupboards waiting
For cat burglars to make wall holes.

When  holes are made in egg-shape
They do not look at  prevailing moons.
Men make holes like oval ears of caves
With secret formula for their opening.
So they keep  wealth in foreign vaults
Where they do not make wall holes.

But at midnight you do hear noises
On the wall street,from tents of occupy.
Their noise is drowned out by batons
And footfalls at midnight and clackety
Of flying machines in an empty sky.

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