I sit on the corner coffee shop in Philadelphia.
I drink my iced coffee and smoke a few cigarettes thinkng.
Sometimes I thrive on the city. Sometimes I feel unfocused and anxious.
I can’t take the noise and population.
I love the noise and population.
The smell, sounds, taxtes and smells of the city.
I forgot how much I love the city.
I forgot how much I hate the city.
Lovely people of all varieties.
Girls in their tiny dresses and skirts showing everything and meaning nothing except a passing memory I will forget as I look around.
Homeless people politely screaming fro something. A cigarette. A dollar. For a minute our minds meet. I see they are me. Could be me. Maybe already is me.
Forget about money.
Worry about money.
A group of kids hanging out. Just hanging on the corner is fun for them.
It’s fun for me.
It’s pain for me.
Philadelphia, I cry to you.
I scream like the homeless person to you. . .
If only the city could help me. . .
Someday I want to be the city.