Not the time of the day when men perspire adjectives
and discuss their pay packets;
when they have no point to negotiate
incentives spraying adverbs,
stroking their cell phone babies.
The dogs in the streets are busy licking 
used up tissues and napkins; though they swallow 
the scent of whatever they can’t chew. 
Still, friends exchange sweets and mementoes, 
lovers worship closeness. 
The day stretches to take the flight of birds; 
the insomniacs are stoned to sleep, 
children forced to read junked literature.