What I See on an October Morning

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



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