Walk On

The overflowing dumpster is the first
thing that I see out past my door
to this apartment that I never
would return to if I could.
Acceleration so loud it parts
the swarms out in in the streets
and all the helicopters up there,
to make us scared, are pulled back down
to earth with simple chains.

I kick the brick wall as I walk
as a way to test if I am still awake.
The music from the window of the bakery
is sung along with by a girl who sweeps
the stairs. Miles above us there are windows
looking out into the world with such
perspective they have everything they need.
Just to see what they see for a second
is the majority of what were asking for,
but I ask more.

Let me pass are the only words I hear
the desperate man banging on the gate
scream at the top of his lungs.
I knock on the door and I am ushered in
and sit at the end of a couch far too moldy
to be new and ignore the filth that’s dripping down
the walls on to a floor that hasn’t held up
like it should have.

I’m met by who I’m looking for an she gives me
what I called about then starts to tear up
when I ask her how she’s doing.
Without another word she waves me
back out into the city where I sit on the curb
by the street and count the pairs of feet
that walk on something different.

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