Urban Poetics

in a busy simile-like street
with masks of synecdoche and metonymy
so many metaphors are dancing wildly
that no oxymoron can elbow his way
through crowds of symbols and hyperboles
to his long lost friend paradox
trying to converse with a shy-looking allusion

after standing too long on tiptoes
between consonance and assonance
i become an internally-rhymed road plate
pointing towards the shiny euphony
with no onomatopoeia painted on my face

hardly visible beside the fast lane

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