Confused

I drive my car down a broken street and, rising above, there is the aroma of pulled meats.  I take the city bus through a confused city and, passing below, there are women holding strange beads to sell.  I come to no destination point, and each end of town looks the same as the last.  why is it like this?  i lean over and ask the person behind me the time.  there is a drunken couple in the back.  i look over and a kid holding an awkward black case is trying to cross the street.  he takes a few steps, stumbles, and falls.  the case flies open and pieces of a very old saxophone pile out onto the damp concrete, and it's just starting to rain a little bit.  people begin honking their horns.  someone makes everyone wait just so they can get a parking spot.  someone in the crowd makes a passing comment about another person's hair.  it's always about the hair, unless it's something else.  i drive my car down a broken street and there are people all over the crosswalk.  they are only vaguely aware of one another and they have items, lists, thoughts, clean shoes.  people, buildings, awnings, coffee prices, why is it like this?  i take a city bus through the confused city and there is a group of people wearing orange and two cops, side-by-side, at the end of the street.  why is it like this?