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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


experience



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


alone


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