By Sammy Ginsberg
I look up at the flag,
I guess that's where I want to be
off in the distance
sliver of hope,
yet every so often,
as I take steps towards tomorrow,
i look off at the horns,
they play jazz and make me want to sit,
to appreciate the moment,
stop going where I want to be and just be,
and in the reflection of the water,
the unnaturally natural water fireworks,
i see the reflection of yesterday.
why was it i wanted so badly
to be up there,
when i'm so comfortably content.
i sit there a while,
sometimes i smile.
coat my legs in sweat,
reflecting on the dust settled on my knees,
i get up and keep walking,
hands curled up in my pockets,
holding on to the past in a vile,
mind spun with tomorrow,
humming jazz as I go.
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