Thorough Forkus

Popular intersections draw five, six, seven roads
To gather, to blather; they'd rather escape the traffic
But to be seen is to be urb, an instruction to city

verb: get with two to four million of your closest friends
Make society hum, cross over, turn waste to art

Transformations are the bridges over herd river
Glimpses of individual brill-ants, scaling limitations
Proof by reason that it's the season for two trees from one root

Napping off a feast, bacchanal night to prove it's cool
To stay off one-light-main-street, and get blinded
By the center of galactic sun-spots

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