Pictographic Divider

I watch as people open their garage doors by remote, sometimes wave and shut them as fast as they opened, not to see them again until the next time our paths cross again, in the same manor, different clothes and different attitudes but the same, always the same knowing they are returning fro that which I yearn so desperately for, the city and the noises of the city, any city with corner coffee shops and small boutiques, bookstores to wander about for hours and CD's to listen to as aa means to escape the realities before me...

I wonder what it must feel like to return to a place that reminds me of nowhere, trapped by a body of water, my ability to walk and the amount of air in my bicycle tires as a means to do something, anything, in strip malls usually as real traffic heads East and I do not as there are no means to get me there and to return me to where I reside but home, never, as its not mine and I've been told so many a time and over some more, only wondering why so many manipulative mind games and so much denial when the truth has been shown in black and white and spoken loudly but ignored almost immediately...
... but the listening is absent and sometimes so are the players but the game goes on as does my wish to leave, to be elsewhere, anywhere, soon.


Anonymous John Paul Mahofski said...

sometimes we forget to live while we wait to move onward. You'll get to those noises and oddly miss the ones you have now.

12:16 PM  

Post a Comment

Create a Link

<< Home