Philadelphia (poem)


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.

 

People.

 

Lovely people of all varieties.

 

Business people finishing their work and off to their secret place of dreams or desperate escape from their lives.

 

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.

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One Response to Philadelphia (poem)

  1. The girl next door says:

    Wow, I hear ya man. I can relate to so many thoughts here. Take care.

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