Somewhere along the way the world became small
A patch of concrete, sprigs of grass breaking through
Swerve around another body
Annoyed thoughts flit through my mind
“Be nice.” How many time do I think this?
Rinse, repeat, here we go again
Brings to mind Shakespeare’s Macbeth
Tomorrows spin in monotonous succession
A forced respite in an unfamiliar place
Perched in a leather chair, level with the birds
Gazing upon city rooftops and soaring skyscrapers
Hundreds of glass panels, hundreds of stories behind each one
How long has the world been so big, so full?
A patch of city, a glimpse of all that lies waiting to be explored