Andrew Fogel
where am i
i mean
i know where i am
senses wash over me
like a tsunami of stimuli
the streets buzz with artificial people
always rushing somewhere it seems
i look up and drabby brick buildings
with a grayish saturation
look back down at me
each brick telling a different story
maybe i should just take the safe ride home
but what of an
experience
i can’t sit in that all familiar leather
black and shiny as squeaky new boots
i will let the wind be my cab
let the sky be my compass
as i wander
alone
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