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  • Andrew Fogel

where am i

i mean

i know where i am

senses wash over me

like a tsunami of stimuli

the streets buzz with artificial people

always rushing somewhere it seems

i look up and drabby brick buildings

with a grayish saturation

look back down at me

each brick telling a different story

maybe i should just take the safe ride home

but what of an


i can’t sit in that all familiar leather

black and shiny as squeaky new boots

i will let the wind be my cab

let the sky be my compass

as i wander



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