Having nowhere to be.

May 1, 2010
By misrableatb3st GOLD, Glen Head, New York
misrableatb3st GOLD, Glen Head, New York
12 articles 1 photo 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.
C. S. Lewis

This is the place where I go to contemplate my days.
I sit at my usual table, in my usual stool,
And look out the wide windows in the front.
I see the cars go by, and my fellow students hurrying home.
I see the occasional Snickers wrapper carried by the wind,
From one side of the parking lot to the other.
As time goes on, I hear the sounds of rush hour,
The rolling of wheels,
Maybe a honk or two.
I’m loving the way that time can go on without me,
And I can just absorb the rest of the world as it turns.
But once again, there is silence.
I close my eyes, and try to feel the small breeze as it crashes into my skin,
When a new customer walks in.
At closing time, around midnight,
I can just walk outside and into the street,
Which was once busy.
And lay down.
Stare at the streetlight changing.
Green, Yellow, Red.
Not a care in the world,
Having nowhere to be.

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