Orange leaves stuck in bushes, dotting brick, swept into swirling designs
Sticky spiderwebs soft beds for the will-be dead
Six Pillars of Something, standing proud despite the cracks
Men carrying ladders, dripping paint
Fat clouds drifting through the surprise blue sky
Girl reading under a tree, patches of sunlight turning pages golden
Crane posed to move, clanking metal
Tour groups walking hopeful and shy and
It’s just warmer than goosebumps, just louder than tranquility, just brighter than early early morning.
Seated here by an everlasting Thomas Jefferson, here on a cold concrete bench I am struck with it: the hugeness of it all, the astounding, astounding littleness of me.
I tell the me goodbye, then, for I wish to inhabit this place. I cannot own it, no, but I can live amongst these burning leaves these six pillars these chattering voices this cool breeze these fat clouds these sticky spiderwebs this promise that now is