Amalgamation

Winding down slowly onto the taxicab-way
Waving down a passing motorist
With dust-smeared palms
He trundles his life to the end of the page
And breaks down, a gibbering mess
Losing all semblance of calm
And the grim-turning beat of progress
Sweeps his unprotetsting form
To the gurgling gutters
Beside his tattered briefcase and Sunday best
A figure of muted sorrow, a warn-
ing of how fast close the shutters.