why is it never enough

anymore to be here in this place?

no matter where here is:
wrapped deep in warm blankets late into the day
crowded in a corner on the 1 train
eavesdropping in columbus circle
in the shadows of skyscrapers
or home, even, though I haven't been home

I'm learning that I've forgotten how to stop look be.


shannon said...

oh man, I know how you feel! it makes me so sad... I feel like I am missing things right in front of me. Like sunshine and stranger's smiles.
love you kat

Jessica Pearl said...

I swear on my favorite collection of e.e. cummings poetry, if someone set our journals side to side and compared entry to entry they would think they had been written by the same person. We share a spirit.