On the Streets Where You Live


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

And then

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

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